


Journey

by Lattemi



Category: Ice Climber, Super Smash Brothers
Genre: Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Childhood Friends, Eventual Romance, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Romance, but this is just me pouring my heart and soul into ship material oof, idk how to tag this without it looking cheesy lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2019-08-03 14:59:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16328213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lattemi/pseuds/Lattemi
Summary: The story of the journey the boy in blue and the girl in pink undertook to climb their mountains together.(Pretty self-explanatory. It's my take on the basis of the original Ice Climber game, but sort of detailed.)





	1. GAME: start

**Author's Note:**

> Despite my undying love for the Ice Climbers, I've never actually written anything about them to express my passion. I found this surprisingly easier to write than anything else I've written, probably because it's solely about them xD I've divided this oneshot into chapters because if I didn't it'd be a heck of a lot to read. This story basically compromises almost all of my headcanons about their backstory, plus my own kind of retelling of their mountain climbing journey (hence the title). There's mentions of random OCs I've made up (very rarely), but they're not totally important right now - in fact, they're quite minor.
> 
> Enjoy reading :

 

" _What are you playing?"_

_The young boy slowly looks up from his toys, his night blue eyes meeting the inquisitive gaze of a girl his age wrapped in a cosy pink parka._

" _It's called Villages. The village's food is all being stolen by the animals, so the chief's going with his climbing people to go up the mountain and get the food again."_

" _Does the princess do anything?"_   _She points at the wooden doll adorned with crudely tied braids and a little pink and red dress._

_The little boy pauses for a moment, picking up the doll and inspecting it thoughtfully._

" _Yes, she does. She's gonna lead the climbing people with her chief!" he beams up at her, placing the doll in her hand._

* * *

"How high do you reckon that mountain is?"

Its summit is barely halfway up Icicle Mountain – that's the dominating mountain over our region, and the tallest – yet the sloping blankets of snow covering the even steeper slopes themselves are enough to remind us of how small and...human we actually are. Not to mention the fact that this is one out of the thirty-something mountains encircling Icicle Mountain and there's no knowing which mountain the blasted condor's vanished to. Funny how such a huge creature can suddenly disappear into the fog without any trace of its invasion at all.

Well, that part's not entirely true. Considering the amount of wreckage there is in the village now and the gaping absence of food.

"I don't know. It's gonna be quite a challenge." Popo replies, staring up in awe at the peak. His eyes are filled with this kind of determination, a buzz in his gaze that I can only ever see in Popo. It's clear that he'd rather do this for everyone else than for himself, even though he's the one risking his life in the first place.

"Well, duh. What does our village decide to do when its climbing team of responsible adults go missing  _with_  the condor? Panic until it takes two-" - I hold two of my fingers up, for added emphasis - " _two_  teenagers to volunteer on behalf of the fifty of us that remain to go up."

He frowns. "When you put it like that, it makes us look kind of stupid, going off and doing this by impulse."

To be fair, the idea in itself didn't sound realistic at all, even to me (surprisingly enough). The only knowledge the pair of us have of climbing is from the few "classes" we've had from Popo's mom and my dad, which only actually consisted of us hiking up baby cliff sides with barely any height – and worth barely any effort.

This mountain is not a baby cliff side.

I notice Popo opening the enormous sack he'd somehow lugged with us all the way to the foot of the mountain where we were stood now. I decide not to question his strength and make my way over to him so I can peer inside the bag.

"...why have you brought massive hammers?"

"Mallets," he corrects. "Gio said they'd be useful for...breaking stuff."

Gio is our village's stand-in chief for the time being until Popo is old enough to take over the position. Normally he was just an advisor to Popo's mother (when she'd needed it, which wasn't very often), but it's evident that his family trusted him enough to oversee the village in their untimely absence.

"Aren't they gonna be a bit heavy for us to drag up?" I ask, still overlooking the shapes of the mallets. The heads are almost half the size of us both each, but make up for their lack in height in their colossal width. That might be overexaggerating a bit, but to put it simply: they're gigantic.

"I did ask him that, but he said we'd probably be able to manage." Popo clasps both of his hands tightly around the handle of the ever so slightly more chipped hamm- mallet, and I wait there, watching and expecting him to end up looking quite silly as he struggled to get it off the ground. Not that I underestimate his strength, considering he'd managed to carry them with us in the first place, but holding one properly to use seemed a step too far.

"Oh. It's- it's not as heavy as it looks, Nana."

Okay, maybe I was a bit too judgemental.

He picks up the other mallet with just as much ease as he did with his own, now held in  _one_  hand, handing it to me.

I blink. "Popo, I appreciate the compliment, but just because you're some kind of superman doesn't mean I am too."

Raising an eyebrow, he replies, "And you say I'm the one who's not self-confident enough. Trust me, it's not that bad, especially if it's  _you_  holding it."  
I end up taking his word for it and taking the mallet into my hands. The abrupt yank to the ground I expect never appears, and I realise that the mallet is actually as light as any regular hammer. Or at least a normal-sized mallet.

I start swinging the mallet around, still admiring how weirdly lightweight it is. It takes a few moments for me to realise I should probably stop before I whack Popo by accident, which he seems terrified of enough anyway as he awkwardly stands by.

"Sorry about that," I laugh nervously. "Maybe these will be useful after all."

His wistful but kind chuckle joins mine, like we're both harmonising some kind of happy tune.

"You don't need to apologise, dummy. It's funny." Popo briefly turns back to the view of our first mountain, before extending his hand out to me as his gaze meets mine again. That mountain really is grand – it's the only way I could possibly describe it. If we were to overcome that single mountain alone, if we stay alive long enough to do that, maybe I would feel like a princess. A grand heroine on top of the world, even if that's only a single mountain. It'd be worth something.

"I think we'd better get going."

It's okay, though, because I already feel worth something enough right at the bottom of this mountain.

It's more than enough.


	2. arise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next part. I wrote way more for this than for the last chapter, so I hope it's not too rambly. As always, I hope you enjoy reading my work ^^"

 " _Hey, are the princess and the chief a mama and papa yet?"_

" _Oh." The boy shrugs. "I don't have a baby doll to be the kiddie."_

_Reaching for a plump-looking figure of a small seal, the girl places it next to the princess and the chief toys._

" _They can be this topi's parents. That way, maybe it can come along with them when they go climbing!"_

So far, we've conquered about 300-ish metres.

We have 700 left to trek.

Ropes tightly wound around both our waists, we clutch tightly onto the stubbornly frozen packs of ice that have trapped the kinder surface of the original mountain in its wake. It's incredibly difficult to move upwards at all, what with the faint beginnings of a screaming blizzard starting to encompass us in its nightmare. Carefully, I remove my left axe from the ice and firmly strike it in a level higher, pulling myself up with what little strength I have left and embedding the spikes of my crampons in the wall.

My line of sight falls back upon Nana, just below me, who I can see starting to struggle with the fogginess of the weather. She squints back at me, and manages to muster up enough vigour to speak. It's a little embarrassing, how we've only done a few hundred metres in- I haven't even kept track of the time at this point, so I don't know how long we've been stuck up here for. Yet it feels as if we've been trapped with the ice too, for something like many hours long – at least, longer than we've actually been on the mountain.

"You tired?"

"I'm fine," I reply, trying to shrug off her worry. But when it comes to Nana, she's always got more to say.

"I think we're nearly at the top of this wall," she calls back, glancing upwards. "If it's flatter up there, and there's a cave, we could wait there for a bit."

"Fair enough."

When we finally grasp the ledge of the wall, I find that just as Nana predicted, a small cave is lodged into the rocky wall of the part of the mountain we're at. Apart from a few icicles suspended across the top of the entrance, it seems safe enough to linger in for the time being. The first break we've had throughout this journey is within reach. I turn to Nana, helping her up the ledge onto her feet and awaiting her thankful grin.

"I'm psychic. My witchcraft skills are amazing."  
I smirk back. "Hey, no need to get so full of yourself."

"I'm just speaking the truth." she replies, rolling her eyes with her smile still plastered to her face. "Now let's hurry up and take a look in that cave. I need to get out of all of this white stuff."

"Snow?"

"That."

Hurrying into the cave, we both nearly collapse down onto the cave floor, setting down our packs of equipment nearby the wall. It sends chills through my spine as I lean back against it, though it's ever so slightly numbed by the comforting warmth of my parka enveloping my body. Nana shuffles over next to me, resting her head on my shoulder; I rest my own next to hers, the same way we usually do when we're just tired or lazy (or both) and don't really have anything else to do, except stay together. Although that's something I wouldn't mind for a while.

That kind of affection we share and have with each other is also something we're both used to being teased about, because apparently it makes us look like a couple. From my point of view, if we're any kind of couple, then we're a regular pair of best friends, nothing more or less. I know that's how Nana saw it too – it's how we've always been together, the blend of camellia pink and night sky blue that doesn't ever seem to be apart, yet it's the kind of mix that others still seem to associate with  _that_  kind of love.

Nana groans deeply, a faint cloud forming from her breath. "How long do you think we should stay in here for?"

"Until we feel like going." I shrug.

"Mm. That might be a while. I'm really puffed out at the moment."

"I mean, there isn't much point in us trying to climb up again whilst we're still tired. So let's just stay here."  
Silence fills the space around us, the only other sound being the furious gusts of wind howling outside. We both wait, taking in the roaring songs of agony the outside is singing. But my fatigue starts to invade my consciousness, and my eyes slowly start to fall, drooping down as-

_Crack!_

My eyes shoot open again, my sudden panic enabling me to look over to the entrance once again. And then, my eyes meet something I had not ever thought I would ever meet.

"Nana?"

Her eyes also start to flutter open, and it's only then I realise she'd miraculously fallen asleep already. I don't like seeing her tired and as weak as I am too, but we've chosen to embark on this mission together: our pains are to be shared together. She pauses for a moment, until her eyes suddenly widen in surprise at the thing that greets us at its step.

"Is that…?"

For the moment, we both don't seem to be able to do anything other than stare in awe at the glass-eyed seal at our doorstep. Minuscule grains of snow speckle its goggled eyes that do nothing but simply blink back at us.

"It's a Topi!"

The 'Topi's' head suddenly perks up at the mention of the name we humans dub it as. Neither of us expects it to attack, because the childhood tales of their benevolence whispered to us at bedtime linger in our heads. True, Topis could be hindering towards climbing. I remember Mom complaining about them when she'd return from her journeys, how the "dirty little rascals" had the cheek to barricade blocks of ice along the pathways the climbers took.

It's then that we remember the plot twists.

My attention is turned to Nana, now stood up, mallet raised in her hands as I realise what her next intentions are.

"Hey, don't try and  _kill_  it! What the heck are you doing, Nana?!"  
"It won't be easy for us to just- just smash our way out of an ice wall! What else am I supposed to do?"  
"You don't have to be so reckless. We could just, you know, shoo it away with some ice or something."  
She frowns, clearly not understanding my point. "Ice? Wha-" she stops mid-sentence as she realises what exactly I'm referring to.

Our gazes meet the (now almost-white-faced) seal, its own focused instead on the large head of Nana's mallet. She sighs again, placing her weapon back on the floor as she carefully approaches the creature, her usual gentle smile now vested on her expression. It's a smile I know is either used for tricking people to get what she wants when needed, or when she realises she's in a situation where she actually needs to be genuinely diplomatic.

"Hey. Sorry for, like, threatening to whack you earlier."

Her comforting words only make the Topi retract further away from her hands.

"I wasn't thinking. It's...kinda my thing, being impulsive and all that." At least she's admitting it.

She grins a little more at the seal. "Can you forgive me? Pretty please?" she adds, batting her eyelids.

And here I am, on the sidelines watching my best friend look as if she's trying to flirt with a seal she had been about to murder two minutes ago.

Eventually, the seal seems to give in and cautiously makes its way  _towards_  us, looking all bright and cheerful once again. How it had even been surviving up this high is beyond either of our knowledge, but it's nice to have some more companionship (not that Nana's isn't enough).

Nana giggles a melodic laugh as the Topi playfully hops into her arms, giving her a small lick on the cheek as some form of affection.

"They actually are kind of cute, aren't they, Popo?"  
"It was never harmful in the first place." I look the little creature up and down again before giving it a soft pat on the head. "Quite friendly though, isn't it?"

"Can we keep it?"

"How are we going to take it up with us when we have to scale another ice sheet?"

Her expression falls back to a sullen look, though she still embraces her new pet-for-the-time-being tightly. Even the seal seems to be in despair at my apparent cruelty.

"Don't take that personally." I sigh.

"Hmm..." she pauses again. "I guess...you do have a point." Gently setting the seal back down onto the cave floor, she turns her head back to me, her human accompaniment.

"You'll have to do for now, then!" Nana smirks mischievously. "You're a good enough pet as it is."  
  
I blink. "Sorry, but that sounds terribly wrong out of context." Though even I can't help but snicker a bit at her remark.

"Context is a subjective thing." she matter-of-factly replies.

"Hey, what are you trying to say? I thought I was the lead climber. I'm not gonna be the pet here."

"Well, somebody's gotta do it."

We both face each other, leering with burning intensity. But one thing we both have in common is being terrible at staring contests, because we always end up bursting into fits of laughter, loud enough to drown out the wind outside.


	3. embrace the moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter goes into more detail on the backstory of the Ice Climbers' beginnings with climbing. I hope you enjoy it :0

 " _'What's wrong, princess?'" the boy asks in a mock deep voice, playing as the chief ascending the mountain._

" _'Well, we've been gone for a really long time, and...I kind of miss my Papa."_ _the girl, as the princess, replies._

_There is silence for a moment as the boy thinks over how he should reply._

" _'Your Papa's still here with you, kind of. He's watching over you in spirit! Even if, um, he's actually back home in the village."_

" _'He'll always be with you no matter where you are, princess.'"_

* * *

Now that I think about it, we've actually come pretty far. For starters, we've collected more vegetables than we thought we were going to obtain in the first place. Good thing we brought extra sacks.

We've also conquered 7 mountains as of now; I'm already starting to get used to life up here. I mean, sure, it's deathly freezing and the damn condor keeps taking off to the next mountain over only for us to chase after it, but at least it isn't as bad as I thought it'd be. I'm pretty confident in my climbing ability now, but at first, I thought Popo and I would have had to return home within an hour of our ascent on the first mountain. Or maybe even within 10 minutes.

I suppose it's been more bearable because there's two of us together.

"I wonder how everyone back home's doing." Popo muses.

We've set up camp on the peak of our most recently overcome mountain in a little quinzee large enough for the pair of us to snuggle up in. It's either that or an eerily quiet cave.

"Probably better than we are out here, risking our lives for them all." I scoff.

"You volunteered  _with_  me, Nana."

"Yeah, I know. But I had my reasons."

He sighs, his gaze still fixated on the millions of stars scattered across the sky above us. The following silence feels a little more awkward than the ones we normally share, probably because I brought  _that_  up. Popo's always been able to see right through me (even when I don't want him to).

"I think we'll have done them proud once all of this is over."

I hesitate for the shortest of moments.

"Do you want this to be over?"

His face briefly twitches in surprise as he turns towards me, lying next to him. I don't move to meet his eyes, but I watch his curious stare from the corners of my eyes, making sure my expression is as unreadable as possible. All I have to do now is wait for him to answer.

"I mean, I want to do this for everyone in the village. It's my duty, after all." Popo replies, looking back at the sky. "But I don't hate what we're doing right now either."

I laugh. "You don't not like the freezing cold weather or anything?"

"It's a nuisance, but since I'm warm every night - even though we're not in a comfy cabin or anything – it isn't, you know...as bad as it seems. And when we climb all these mountains and get the harvest back, we don't have to stop there. We could still go climbing together." He pauses again. "If you'd like to, of course."

Taking hold of his hand by mine, I gently squeeze it in approval. "Give me one reason why I wouldn't want to, Popo." I grin.

Red faintly dyes his cheeks for a little before he smiles back. "We wouldn't be able to stay here forever, of course. We have to get back for everyone. They'll be pretty hungry for the rest of winter without us."

"They'll be fine for now, right? We brought back the food from the first couple of mountains before we left again."

"It's only enough for a month at the most."

For a moment, I don't respond, briefly indulging in the heat of our laced hands that somehow seems to be the thing that's keeping me most warm at this point.

"I guess this is good preparation for me, right? With everything Mom taught me and... _this_ , maybe I'll be able to do her a bit of justice." he says wistfully. In a way, these climbs we've embarked on are kind of like an escape for the both of us from- well, nowhere. We have homes back in the village. We have friends. (Besides each other, somehow.) We have some kind of security.

Just no one left to go to, really.

"You're gonna be a great chief, obviously. I mean, come on! You're Popo."

Popo smiles at my remark, but I can still hear his embedded sadness when he speaks again.

"Mom used to say that to me all the time." he replies, with the slightest crack in his voice.

The air falls silent again, with only the sound of the hissing wind distracting us from any awkwardness that's returned between us. I purse my lips as I carefully consider what to say next. After all, it wasn't as if the incident hadn't happened long ago. I could still remember the events vividly in my head.

* * *

"No more baby cliff sides for you two budding adventurers now," the formidable-looking woman in front of us announces, untying the sack my father carried (along with his climbing pack) with us to the base of this slope. Out of the sack, she produces two starter climbing packs prepared especially for Popo and me to use on this very fine day.

"Such a proud moment for the pair of you as a couple. Your first climb together up a proper mountain!" my dad teases.

"Dad, how many times do I have to  _tell_  you, we're not-"

"Yes, yes, believe what you will, I've already given your lovely man here my blessing for your marriage. So even if I die before I ever see the two of you married, you won't have to worry about asking for permission!" he beams, taking in the pleasure of seeing the irritation on both mine and Popo's faces. "...Except asking for Ms Fuyu's consent, of course." he adds as an afterthought, nodding towards the woman – Popo's mother, the stand-in village chief until he's old enough to take over.

"Then, we're on the same boat. I was discussing wedding preparations with my son the other day."

Popo's cheeks immediately redden. "Mom-!"

"Okay, okay, we'll stop."

Ms Fuyu hands us both our climbing packs, and we take out the ropes and hooks that we'll need to scale the first few parts of the mountain. The mountain in particular that we'll be climbing is nothing compared to the actual mountains around our land – I wonder if it can even be called a mountain, sometimes – but at least we're starting somewhere, right?

After tying the rope that links me to Popo around my waist, I turn my attention to the mountain itself. My father and Ms Fuyu, who are climbing partners anyway and a part of our village's climbing team, are just in front of us, presumably re-evaluating for the umpteenth-time whether we're suited for this climb. Eventually, they spin around back to us, nodding:

"You ready, then?"

Nodding back at their proud faces is something I hope won't be my greatest regret. Our greatest regret.

* * *

We're just a few hundred metres up, but I already feel like I'm above the clouds. (I'm not.)

Maybe it's because my feet seem as if they're going to slip off the ice they're latched onto, a disaster I can only pray never befalls us. The last thing I need to happen is to drag Popo down with me when he's already doing amazingly at leading us both.

The ropes are actually quite loose, to allow us some limited freedom for leaping and moving around ledges as we scale the ice walls and slopes. One of the most important rules any climber is taught is to make sacrifices when they're necessary. Quite literally, you have everyone's lives on the line. In those kinds of situations, decisions like those must be horribly difficult to make. It just makes me think of how fragile the strings connecting us all really are. There are strings I know I'd never, ever want to sever, there were the strings I knew I had to cut for the best.

Will I have to cut any more in the future?

I quickly follow after Popo's hops and steps, hacking my small axes into the ice where I need to for stability. Everyone seemed to be a bit sceptical at the prospect of giving us (or rather, me specifically) such sharp tools to handle, since we were apparently "still young children barely maturing" in the words of Gio. I had to disagree with that statement, considering how socially and culturally mature we are – or should be, at the very least! After all, we're only a couple of years off the eligible marriage age (which is why our respective parents decided to start teasing the two of us for the sake of it), and to some extent, we've already come of age in some things already; climbing happens to be one of them.

"You two are doing great! We're almost at the next flatland. We'll stop for a break there." my dad hollers down to us both below.

When we arrive, we take refuge in a small snow shelter my dad puts together. It's somewhat sloppy work, for my dad, though it wasn't as if we were going to stop for the whole  _night_. The plan is simple: to have left for the mountain by noon and return by the seventeenth hour at the very latest, when the sun sets. Popo's mom had said that at the rate we'd been training and working at, we'd probably finish the whole affair by fifteen hours. Nothing should get in the way.

Ms Fuyu smirks at us. "Tired yet?"

"I'm as fine as can be. We'd better hurry up and get up this mountain so we can say we've accomplished something!" I grin back, pulling up a confident posture.

Popo yawns, "How far up are we?"

"Just under halfway up."

My head snaps up as I suddenly hear my dad's casual statement. "Wha-? But hasn't it only been-"

"An hour? Yeah, but you're fast learners. Didn't take you long to catch up to us, did it?"

There he goes again, showering us with compliments. It's the way Dad's always been, and I love him for it, but I sometimes feel as if he doesn't pay enough attention to how amazing he is too.

"Once we get back to Yukino, I'll be able to give you both your Climbing bands. Junior ones, mind, but it'll really say something."

"Mm...I don't want us to seem like show-offs, though, Mom. I-I mean, I'd be really glad to get my band, but..." Popo's voice trails off.

"Hey, you don't need to worry about that, Popo. I know the whole wow-weird-ice-powers thing has always been really hard for us both, but I'm pretty sure most people are used to it at this point."

He sighs. "I know, it just sort of bugs me anyway."

Suddenly, my dad decides to stand up, so he's looking over all of us. "Well, I  _have_  told you both time and time again that what you have is simply a blessing. I understand your abilities may be used for what might seem like the worst, but...they are just as beautiful as the next snowflake."

"Very metaphorical as usual, Mr Tsubaki." Popo's mother chuckles. "But he's right, Popo. So don't stress over it, okay?"

And she smiles her beam of comfort our way, like some kind of magic medicine only she can procure.

* * *

Once again, we're enshrouded by silence minus the howling wind we're caught up in. There's not much need for conversation when the important thing to focus on is making sure we stay put on the mountain.

_Don't fall._

Admittedly, the fog is significantly thicker now that we're at a higher elevation. I'm not sure how to describe my feelings at the moment – a satisfying warmth in my stomach seems to have grown from the triumph of knowing I've- we've made it this far, yet… maybe it's just the piercing chills starting to get to me. But I feel almost sick at the same time, as if in a darker corner inside of me what little fear I have of this journey is going to burst into an ugly grotesque beast that overtakes me completely. I know I shouldn't be worried. Today is a normal climbing day for Dad and Ms Fuyu, and here they are, stuck on a tiny mountain trying to teach two amateur fourteen-year-olds how to actually get up a mountain. I kind of feel sorry for them; they could have been out on a good adventure with the rest of their climbing clan, though it was their choice to remain here with us. I struggle to think about what I'd choose in such a situation (it's not as if the time won't come for me). Choosing to stay behind and stick to the easy stuff? At least they have less on their mind for now, even though it isn't that easy for me.

_Don't fall._

"Can you both still see us down there?" my dad hollers to us. He doesn't direct his gaze towards us when he speaks, his focus understandably instead on the slopes above him.

"J...just about!" I reply, squinting to barely make out his figure. Dad and Ms Fuyu have already reached the next small area of flat ground to wait for us. There isn't much room for mobility in said space, but it's of no concern since the next glacier is just ahead of them.

"Good. Now, you'd better hurry up! We can't stay here for long."

That's a fair point. We need this training over and done with, though it's been tiring enough.

As I follow Popo once again in his every step, I call out, "Are we almost at the top?"

"Yeah, we just- we just have a few more jumps to make, then- then we're there!"

I indulge in a wave of relief splashing over me as soon as I hear those words. This wall, by far, is the wall that's taken longest to ascend. At least soon it's going to be over. Soon, we're going to be another step closer to accomplishing this mountain! According to Dad, the next glacier ahead's the last one before the peak. I can already imagine the glory and victory that'll course through my veins as we step atop the mountaintop, hands linked, taking in the amazingly vast view of the valleys nestling our little village. And we'll have done it with-

"What the hell?!"

My head shoots up, Popo's yelp of horror overwhelming my relief with sudden panic instead. Panicking is the worst thing you can do on a mountain.

_Don't fall. Don't fall. Don't-_

It doesn't take long for me to realise what's stunned Popo like a bolt of lightning.

_DON'T FALL. DON'T FALL._

It's right there, growling so menacingly and… disgustingly bloodthirstily. It's hungry, and it wants food. Nothing's going to soothe its desire, that dark and monstrous lust it has for life. Not even the mallets they, so close yet so far away, wield and brandish against its baring teeth.

No. It's going to take more than that.

But don't they have more than that?

_PLEASE DON'T FALL. PLEASE. PLEASE DON'T FALL. DO NOT-_

The rope tugs tightly on my waist as Popo swiftly leaps from shelf to shelf. There, there, there- no! I told him not to- his foot slides, slipping off a shard of ice that shatters, its fragments falling, falling into the abyss below us. Tension around my waist starts to steal the breath away from me, his fall painfully tightening the ropes between us. But the greater stabs of the cold mute my voice, preventing me from letting out any sounds of pain. There's enough pain playing out right in front of me. Their grunts and moans as the beast attacks them further. Yet, here we are, unable to step in, though we are steps away.

_ARE YOU LISTENING?! DON'T FALL! YOU CAN'T. DO NOT FALL._

" _Hurry!_ " my desperate voice chokes out. For me to rush ahead of Popo would only put us in more danger.

"No! Not here!" Ms Fuyu's normally collected and composed vocals gasp. As we peer up, we're met with her now widened eyes. Her fighting spirit is burning evidently, but is it enough to defeat what's before them?

And then, there's Dad. Papa. My father. My guardian. He only says one word.

"Run."

He meets us with these bloodshot eyes that have replaced his usual kind and happy gaze.

" _Run back!_ "

* * *

I don't say anything to Popo for a moment, because any words that need to be exchanged are already being exchanged through our silences.

The quietness stings, but neither of us will admit it. There's no need to. We both already know how it makes us feel.

"I'm so sorry, Nana."

I blink, studying Popo's face, his expression, his eyes. The moment I see his tears sparkling, trickling down his cheeks is when I truly understand it – his sorrow. It's one we share, for obvious reasons, but what I've wanted this whole time is for him to open its doors to me. True, he let me into him as soon as we became close, closer than just acquaintances. And it only made sense that it took him some time to open this door for me too.

I slowly exhale, ready to listen to what he's going to say.

"What are you sorry for?"

"You don't have to lie to me. I know it was my fault. So, you're right to blame me."

I almost can't believe the words he's spouting out of his mouth. Why… how did he come to that conclusion?

"When did I say I blame you, Popo?" He makes no reply or sound, except for a few sniffles he can't really help. "There's no one to blame. No one but that monster."

"I don't think you understand what I'm trying to say, Nana." Popo sighs, before he starts choking out mumbled sentences.

"Mom only stayed because I asked her to. I- I told her I wanted her to stay with us instead, that we'd- that we'd… I, well, I only asked her because..." He trails off, hesitating for a moment before he continues.

"I was worried. I thought letting Mom and- and your dad stay would keep them safe. Because the peaks the village team's gone to explore, they're… they're deadly, Nana. But what if-"

"Popo."

Slowly, he turns his head to look at me with confused and desperate eyes.

"Please don't think about the what-ifs. You shouldn't. What-ifs are a waste of time."

I pause, suddenly realising how harsh I sound. I decide to retry conveying my thoughts into words for my best friend.

"If those peaks are as deathly as you make them sound, then perhaps they're just as dangerous, if not worse. So I'll start off by telling you not to even consider the thought that it would have been better that way."

Inhaling, I continue.

"We can't dwell on the past anymore, Popo. It won't help anything. Because, usually, stuff like that...it happens because it has to, right? We can't undo time, as much as I'd love to be able to."

"Um...when you climb a mountain. Sometimes you...you lose things. But you can't go back down to get them back, because they're gone by the time you try and get there. Dad and your Mom, they- I'm...I'm sure that they want us to keep on climbing, Popo. We can't give up now."

I don't expect Popo to respond at first, but to my surprise, he abruptly sits up, just staring at me in shock, until he suddenly pulls me towards him.

"Why aren't you  _angry_  at me, Nana?! I don't get it! This is all- it's my-"

After he stops (lightly) shaking me up, I have no choice but to snap back, "I don't have anything to be angry at you about, idiot!"

"I don't get why you blame every stupid little thing on yourself when you don't need to, Popo! You do realise how many people care about you too, right? You- you have to let other people help you too… Popo."

Popo only glares back, supposedly annoyed that I'm  _still_  trying to talk sense into him, and that I don't plan on stopping until he gets it.

After a short quiet moment, I gently wrap my arms around him, drawing us both into an embrace. "Please listen to me, Popo. Nothing was your fault, okay?"

I try to hold him as tightly as possible, hoping my body warmth might add some kind of extra comfort the way his does. Popo doesn't reciprocate my hug, his arms miserably hung at his sides, but he doesn't need to. I'm okay with just being a shoulder for him to cry on for now.

That's how we stay for the rest of the long night, my hand softly running its fingers through his messy hair, while he quietly sobs into my arms.


	4. fire and ice

 " _But that's not fair!" she retorts, frowning distastefully._

" _The game won't work if we do it like that! That's why-"_

" _Why can't we just play it like we used to?"_

_He sighs. "I don't want to! It's_ my  _game!"_

" _Well, it's not nice if I can't decide things too! I don't want to play with you anymore!" Sticking her tongue out in spite, she storms out of the boy's room._

* * *

_Kachunk!_

The only sounds surrounding us – besides the awful wind – are the regular rhythms of our axes ploughing into the ice and our footsteps following shortly after. As usual, we don't make much conversation when we're trying to stay alive on a sheet of ice, but even so, today feels painfully quieter than usual.

It hurts to know that it's my fault that things are a bit awkward at the moment. Which is quite stupid, because even though I  _know_  it, I won't allow myself to even utter a word to make conversation. I don't know if it's because I don't feel inclined to, or if my selfishness just wants Nana to fix all my problems for me.

Even so, most things these days are irreversible.

Understandably, she gave up on trying to talk to me after a while, considering how stubborn I've been for the past three days. (More stubborn than her? I'm not sure myself.) Part of me is weirdly hurt by that, as if I'm annoyed enough to want my friend to keep talking, even if it only irritates me more. At this point, her voice and presence are some of the only things I have to rely on now – when you're friends for as long as we've been together, it's bad enough for me to say that it feels like a necessity, because Nana's almost always been with me. For her to suddenly be cut out just wouldn't...work.

* * *

"Let's rest up here for a little while."

Setting our packs and mallets down against the limited section of cliff wall we have available to us, we pause our trek up the mountain. Thankfully, the snow isn't as ridiculously roaring as it had been earlier, and there's the right amount of fog surrounding us so that we can observe the ground below us from our current vantage point. The mountain we're on now is significantly further away from our home village than the next one over, which we'd stopped at a few nights ago to restock on supplies, but having this scope still seemed to be comforting in a way. The clouds overshadowing us were floating across the same sky that blanketed home, and it was enough to remind me that maybe home wasn't so far off after all. (Even if it was.)

For the first few minutes neither of us utter a word to each other. I almost feel a sour taste in my mouth, because I know the reason this is even happening is because I decided to get stupidly worked up over nothing. But it wasn't nothing. It was so much more than that, and I desperately want to kick myself  _so_  badly, or find something – anything – just so maybe I can satisfy myself that I've been punished rightly. Surely God knows I deserve that after all, right?

So why?

I raise my gaze from the ground to the space in front of me. I don't stay like that for long, though. After a few moments, I have no choice but to turn to face Nana's stern eyes and their determined stare; her glowing, bright, purple eyes intent on illuminating my deep blues.

"Talk to me."

The silence only grows awfully awkward, at least for me: she appears unfazed by my lack of an immediate response, yet still persists.

"Please, Popo."

I sigh.

"What do you want to talk about?"

"I just want to talk to you." She hesitates. "I don't like being ignored, you know."

"Sorry." I mumble quietly.

Nana turns away for a moment, and I instantly feel a pang of guilt again, but my voice refuses to let itself be heard. My lips remain pursed.

"You need to get over it."

The sour taste on my tongue suddenly twists into a scalding bitterness, my head shooting up so I can glare at her properly. She only stares back, eyebrows furrowed, hands clenched into fists. Gusts of wind sweeping past us fill any silence that clouded us.

"...Excuse me?"

She repeats, in a staggered patronising tone: "You. Need. To. Get. Over. It."

At that moment, I forget she's Nana. The only person I see sitting beside me is an  _insensitive little b-_

"I'm sitting here, expecting you to say something that's actually comforting, and that's the kind of bull you think I want to hear?"

"I think it's exactly what you  _need_  to hear, Popo. If I don't tell you, who can?"

My head feels like it's going to break down so, so badly. I've lost enough. I don't need to lose anything or anyone else, not my head, not my life, not my friends. Not Nana. I can only feel myself shuddering at the thought yet shivering horribly from God knows what. Maybe it's the cold or the fact that I can feel the rain about to come again, or maybe the fact that I need to punch something or someone very hard is what's making my whole body quiver this awfully. The last thing I needed was this.

"You really want to rub it in my face, don't you?"

Nana's face flashes with shock for just a second, her eyes widening, but still, she continues.

"No, I don't. I...I'm just trying to-"

"Trying to comfort me? I don't know what your definition of 'comforting' is, but it must be very different from mine if you think that's making anything better. I don't understand."

"..."

"This is the one time I need you to be a friend for me, really, and here you are-"

The ground loudly thumps when Nana's clenched fist pounds the ground; her stamp of (dis)approval engraved into the thick whiteness. And now, when I next look at her, her eyes don't seem to be glowing anymore, at least – not with that gentle glow she kept about her, despite her loudness. It instead seemed to reflect just that.

She sucks in a sharp breath. "Listen here, chief boy. Don't  _you_  dare and try make it sound like you're the only one who's lost someone. You think I'm saying that because I don't know how the hell you feel, huh? That I'm trying to mock you?"

"And now you're trying to justify yourself. Nana, come on, I don't get how you're still carrying on saying all this. Just drop it." I hate the raise in volume I hear leave my mouth, the mute I'm trying to keep on starting to slip off and expose my flurry of emotions right here, right now.

"No, no I won't drop it. See who's being stubborn now, hm?  _Listen_  to me. Listen to what I want to say-"

But I can't. It's too late for that.

"What have  _you_  got to do with any of this?! Are you that stupid? Yet you go around all the time, calling me an idiot left-right-and-centre about every stupid thing I do, especially since I'm the one leading here?! God, sometimes I forget how much nerve you have."

I really have let the avalanche plummet, and now our whole mountain is crumbling. Nana's expression is now one of frustration, disgust - whatever it may be, it hurts but purges any bottled feelings I might have left in my sanity. Before I know it, her shouts are louder than mine.

"This is the last thing either of us needs, Popo!"

I have to try and resist grabbing her and screaming right in her face.

"You don't say, huh?"

"You're no more than I am bereaved. You lost your mother as much as I lost my father. She was your mother, not mine, but she was mine when she needed to be. But of course, I couldn't have possibly developed some kind of connection with her, right? Because my real mother, a  _real_ one like yours, doesn't even exist anymore! What else could I have felt?"

" _She was my mother!_ "

"You're not the only one who's lost someone. I'm  _here_ , you know. So talk to me! Tell me how you feel!" she spits.

Oh, she wouldn't believe how much I'd love to. It's those last words in her last sentence that sting, paralysing me, leaving me unable to respond. I can only glower back at her in disdain.

After the silence finally invades, and the distaste of the words we'd exchanged lingered within it, Nana shakes her head.

"Forget it. Let's just go."

She gets up first, grumpily grabbing her possessions and resetting her climbing equipment on the few ropes and belts she has on her waist. The whole time, even though I know she feels my faint scowl looming over her, my mind still trying to process this blizzard storm passing over us, she doesn't return my glare. Not once.

I know "sorry" won't cut this ice sheet now.


	5. the hearth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, updating more than once in a week? It's more likely than you think.
> 
> My respective "blocks" keep alternating. When I have a severe case of writer's block, the only thing I can think to do is draw, draw, draw. (I'm considering making proper book covers for all the fics I have so far.) Now I'm stuck here, writing, writing, writing, while I procrastinate all of my current art projects and asks on my askblog to drabble about two fictional characters for hours. It's not so bad, I guess, because my phone's broken and I currently have to use one of those awful Windows phones that have zero (0) social media apps, meaning I can't really post my artwork anywhere at this point in time. Besides on Tumblr and DeviantArt, but I'm less active there so it doesn't make much of a difference :")
> 
> Oh well. It means I can pump out more regular content, and maybe once I'm more organised with my time, I'll write something for Shuffle Spinner (which I keep cringing at, for some reason) and puppeteers. - can't actually think of any good deep ideas at the moment lol
> 
> Well, enjoy this chapter and have a good weekend.
> 
> -Temi

" _Oh, why are you crying now, my dear?" She hears the comfort of her father's gentle voice echo into her small bedroom._

" _I...I had a fight with someone to-today," the tearful girl sniffles._

" _A hitting fight?"  
"No, no, no, we- we were shouting and- he said I-"_

" _You don't like what he said?" The girl's father gives her a knowing look, a smile smoothly etched in his face._

_She hesitates. "...I don't, but maybe he was right, and I- I don't know or anything, I-"_

_Carefully, the bearded man places his hand, almost double the size of her childish pair, onto her shoulder._

" _Words can be monstrous beasts, my Nana._

_But they can also be used to braid the climbing ropes we climbers use to overcome our mountains."_

* * *

The night is eerily silent.

It's not as if it wasn't before or anything. Darkness is supposed to equate to the hours of sleep, something I prefer to indulge myself in. To forget about the troubles of the day and unwind so that I can run away to my little dreamland, its gateway which I can enter simply by shutting my eyes and the world away for those few drowsy hours.

Here, however, the blackness that blankets the mountain ranges isn't ever completely peaceful – it's not the tranquillity the dozens of explorers that descended upon our village described often. Or perhaps that was because they found the glassy glowing lights wavering across the sky calm in the first place; the striking blends of magentas, pristine turquoises and limes, accompanied by the mere twinkles of torch-lit stars a million like shattering ice.

Of course, the ice never really shatters here. Taimo (the name our long-gone ancestors blessed our lands with) more or less appears to be a blank sheet of whiteness from a bird's-eye view, and no different in the eyes of us villagers. When summer does come, even the fireball's rays aren't enough to completely penetrate the frosty chills of our climate, and remains of the snow blankets always seem to linger for the whole season alongside the ghostly chilling air. In mine and Popo's case, I'm more so the fireball where he is the snow.

Like the sun and the moon, day and night, fire and water. Perhaps not complete opposites, but I knew we were different enough to bear each other, not so much to detest one another. I'd dread anything like that  _ever_  happening.

Except, it seems to have happened already.

Well...no, I don't hate Popo. I'm not sure if I could. He can be irritating, but maybe I'm the same way to him sometimes, right? I sometimes ask myself how he puts up with me as a friend. Of all the people it could have been, a rowdy, cheeky girl wound up being the chief's son's best friend.

Though we were childhood friends, does that mean I can really take the place as "best" friend to him? I technically haven't known him for the longest, even though it feels like I have, because Miko and Riko were friends with Popo long before I arrived in Yukino Village (makes sense, considering they were  _born_  there). Even if I don't have that going for me, I have other things to argue my case with.

For one, I know I know more about Popo than anyone else possibly could in the village. More than Miko or Riko can say. As my fellow friends, I hope they can appreciate that I have been more intimate with him than they may ever have (not in the way they seem to think, though) and that I had other reasons for volunteering for this trip with Popo other than 'wanting him to myself'.

I have him to myself now, but it isn't much use in our current situation. Even though it seems like a lot of effort for him to have blanked me this much, he seems willing enough to try, and I can feel a twinge of pain upon the sudden realisation.

I open my mouth to speak, under our small snow shelter, but quickly decide against it and close it awkwardly. Popo appears to notice my feeble attempt to say something, and for just a moment I catch sight of his piercing glare before he returns to contently ignoring me. I guess it's understandable, considering we got into an argument the last time we spoke (subtract the occasional grunts and signals we gave to one another when scaling the mountain).

We're at our eighth mountain's peak, resting upon part of its few flatlands and observing the view. Still, no words are exchanged, the fickle things. The pair of us simply stare out not knowing what to say. This is the third or so night we've done this - perhaps seventh if you include the nights before our quarrel, though the silence had been filled at times by my useless babbling in attempts to get Popo to speak.

Perhaps, if I had thought carefully over how I would confront my grieving friend over his bereavement, he wouldn't seem to resent me so.

"We should get to sleep now. It's late."

"Mm." I seem to be stunned by my current fear of speaking.

I turn away from my blue companion to pull out my fur blanket, but when I turn back, I now find my iris gaze meeting his midnight blues, all of them at once. For a while, he doesn't do anything but stare at me, so when it starts to get a bit creepy, I frown and ask, "What?"

His eyes briefly blink multiple times, as if he's possessed by some sudden realisation or confusion, but he speaks after clearing his throat and regaining his composure.

"It's colder today, so..."

Then it's my turn to blink back at Popo in confusion, until I understand he's inviting me to cuddle with him under the covers. Wait, what?

Shaking off my initial shock, I hastily reply, "Y-your point...being?"

"Well, sharing body heat is more or less the only thing we can do to, uh...stay warm now. You know, being on a freezing cold mountain and everything." Popo's cheeks look to be warming a little, and he swiftly averts his eyes from my line of sight. I can only mischievously smirk back at my blushing mess of a friend.

Now's my chance.

" _Popo_!" I gasp dramatically, internally bawling over the priceless look on his face when I screech his name. "I admire your confidence and, well, I know it's good to  _experiment_  with things at our age, but inviting  _me_  of all people for you to mess around in a place like this-"

It's Popo's turn to scream my name loudly back at me, his face almost as reddened as a tomato as he retorts, "I wouldn't ask anyone to do  _that_ , of all the things you could have thought of!"

He sighs, "There you go, taking things out of context on purpose again," though I notice him murmur it with a small grin.

I smile back. "Context-schmontext. Who needs it?"

The air becomes awkwardly silent again, as we both try to think of what to say next. The chilling breeze passing us by mimics the quietness of the world around us, not a sound escaping any mouths of wildlife, no Topi or Nitpicker in sight. I realise this is a situation I'm going to have to take the lead in, after seeing how flushed Popo's cheeks are, and tentatively I extend my arm over to him.

"So, you just gonna freeze for the rest of the night…?" I start to shift my body a little closer, but I pay attention to his expression with caution, in case I end up doing something that makes things even more uncomfortable than they already are. And it's not because of the cold - there's barely any. But that's not the point.

Popo blinks, blushing even more, but he carefully nods, starting to sidle towards me. When we get close enough to one another, I'm the first to fully wrap my arms around his stiff yet snugly fitting body; after just a moment of hesitation, he reciprocates my embrace, and I feel our two presences seem to morph into one flesh, fondly sharing this newfound – no, ever-present homeliness we have with one another. Quietness envelopes our surroundings once again, but there's no need for words, when I know I'm speaking and singing everything I need to like this.

Words are dangerously powerful beauties, but they are not power that need be used.

We soon ease ourselves into a laying position where we can rest our heads on the powdery snow. I feel my body sink a small depth into the ground, the whiteness dented with the silhouette of our connection, and a wave of satisfaction splashes over me. Popo briefly breaks the hug to reach for our blankets further off to the side walls of our cosy shelter, before gently pulling it over us, and I engross myself in the warmth enshrouding me all over my body: the brush-like fur covering, the cool but fluffy snow bits underneath us, and Popo, right here with me, right now.

Even still, I could have already told from his earlier stumbling and unsureness that he hasn't forgiven me, not for those bitter things I uttered to him days ago. It annoys me, but he needs more time to fully comprehend what I tried to say. Whether I failed or not is a mystery to me, one I can only hope he will be willing to unwind on his own. For that, I can only offer so much in cheap words my feeble voice calls out, though...I fear it screeched them instead.

"Good night, Nana." He pauses. "Sleep well, o...okay?"

"I can't say that's impossible." It really isn't, I smile softly to myself, nestling my head a little closer underneath Popo's so my breath just brushes against his neck. I have to try not to giggle when I notice him tense up in his arms when I do that, which only causes me to nuzzle further into our embrace. It's more than I could ask for, though, and that's all I need to be able to get through tonight.

* * *

"We haven't slept together like this in a while, huh?" I wonder out loud.

"Well, no. We stopped having sleepovers ages ago."

That much is true. As younger children, we'd often spend nights at one another's homes (even though our cabins weren't much of a distance from each other) for the sake of- well, togetherness, I suppose. I always enjoyed those moments, because it meant we'd get to play for longer and stay together for longer and all the good things would last for just a few seconds, minutes, hours longer. But naturally, the time came when society's gaze would object to the suitability of that kind of activity between us, especially because age was a linking wall with that  _kind_  of thing. The last time I remember having a sleepover with Popo was around the time we were both nine or ten.

"I guess it'd be a bit weird if we still did." I laugh nervously.

Popo rolls his eyes. "Miko would accuse us of trying to make babies or something."

"Doesn't she do that all the time?"

I sigh, stuffing my blanket from yesterday into my pack messily – not because I don't care, but mostly because I'm a bit too lazy to bother to try and fold it up properly. My bag looks largely lumpy and chunky, and I know it'll make everything feel a bit heavier than it actually is, but no matter.

We begin our descent of the mountain today, planning to reach its foot by nightfall and possibly travelling over to the next nearby village by the mountain circuit. This was a good time as any for us to rest up for a little while before conquering another eight or so mountains. Weirdly enough, I felt  _used_  to consistently ascending and descending peaks, occasionally confronting the condor where it lingered for a bit before successfully making off with our food sack once again. It was a boring cyclical structure, but if it meant being a cool, badass heroine with an equally badass partner like Popo for longer, I was all in.

"I swear, she always tries to make it out to everyone that we're going out. Excessively." I groan.

The blue-coated boy chuckles. "She's one of the only people who still actually press on about it," he says, shaking his head.

"Do we look  _that_  much like a couple?" I muse, stopping to think. "We're a boy and girl pair of people, but that's it, right?"

Throughout our lives, we've always been mistaken for one of two things: twin siblings, since we apparently look it (I personally can't find anything besides the brown hair, but even then, my brown's always been duller than Popo's) or a young couple with a fresh, ripe romance going for them. Heck, even our own  _classmates_  used to tease us so often, I guessed for the sake of teasing us and striking that nerve inside me that explodes when anyone mentions anything about the idea of us ever going out. It's a relief that it's started to die down for a myriad of reasons, what with it being an old over-used joke, other guys worried over getting on Popo's bad side (mostly in fear that he would use his position as chief heir to his advantage), other guys worried over getting on  _my_  bad side-

Oh, and the fact that in just two years, when he turned sixteen, Popo was due to be married off if he hadn't found a suitable partner by then. Making sure the chief bloodline kept going for as long as possible and stuff by reproducing early or something.

It had taken me an awfully long time to realise that the few other girls our age actually entertained the thought that I'd be willing enough to snatch their precious chief boy away from them, probably because they thought I'd want to gloat about how it would have been me all along, that I knew him best and  _I_  was best for him, silly nonsense like that. When these thoughts and senseless accusations had penetrated their thoughts, I can't recall, but it was around then that they'd begun to show any hostility against me.

"It's probably 'cause of that that people assume we're dating. Which, um, wouldn't happen, obviously," Popo hastily adds before going quiet again. I turn to inspect him conscientiously, curious by the way he added the last thing as if it was some forced afterthought.

Tiredly, I sling my pack on, shortly double-triple-checking my laces on my snow boots. Then I try to imagine Popo and me, together, dating, a couple. Even the thought of it sounds like some sadly surreal world far away.

An abnormal feeling of tenseness grips me as I try to even consider it. I did  _go out_  with Popo on a regular basis, albeit only as a platonic friend spending friend-only time with another platonic friend. I cast my mind back to what I often see the older teen couples of our village do together: ambling through the marketplace arm in arm, the girl excitedly squealing over the trinkets and accessories at merchants' booths, pointing at every little item she sees and begging her companion to pretty  _please_  get that adorable little thing for her, a sweet honey smile plastered across her face, and then he'd nod, succumbing to whatever beauty he saw in that cute face of hers and spoiling her with anything and everything. Or sometimes, perhaps they'd find a cosy little nook somewhere behind some tiny street where they were finally alone together before their lips locked and they yanked each other into a deep, passionate embrace, moaning sweet nothings into each other's mouths and-

" _Bleurgh!"_

At least going over that in my head convinces me that the very concept of  _us_  like  _that_  is unfathomable.

Popo looks over at me, puzzled. "What?"

Crap, I said that out loud!

"Ah!... I didn't mean you, I was just thinking about something else."

"Oh. Okay."

No way in hell was that happening. Sooner or later, Popo will already have some other charming beauty to settle down with and have more than enough children to secure his family line, and I…

It's kind of a given that I'll have to do something about that kind of thing too, being the only child my parents had. I feel like it'd be a bit of a disappointment to them if I decide to become a lonely old lady for the rest of my brief years on this planet with only a dozen Topis for company, the same fate few of the elders in the village had unfortunately been greeted by. Besides, I know even if my father was still here, he'd already be pressing me about marriage decisions as much as Popo's mother would to her own; it was something the adults seemed to take more seriously than any of us could.

I'll just settle with finding some other person, the way it should be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't usually leave author's notes at the end of my chapters, but today is different. :)
> 
> You've probably picked up on this already, but this is meant to be a ship fic. That's why I keep writing stupid innuendoes and sneaking fluff in where I can. I don't actually want to just focus on the romance either, though, so I've been thinking of ways to include other Smash Bros characters in this. You can expect some sort of Smash Bros. link in the next few chapters, hopefully.
> 
> (Constructive) criticism and reviews are always welcome!


	6. climbing ropes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regular updates are starting to be a thing now, woo! This is the longest chapter by far. Minus the author's notes, it's nearly 5K words, which is the longest I've written for a chapter of any fanfiction ever. (I'm quite proud of myself.)
> 
> This chapter, in particular, gives a few hints about Nana's specific backstory I have for her. I also tried to add Character Development™, which is probably why this took so many words lol. Or maybe I was just rambling too much...
> 
> As always, I wholly appreciate the reviews you leave for me and hope you enjoy this chapter!
> 
> -Temi

 

 

 

" _Do you have someone you like?"_

" _Hm…? I like lots of people. Like you. You're my best friend, after all."_

_Her face starts to flush a little. "No, I mean...the other kind of like."_

_The boy's cheeks also begin to redden into a pale rose shade. "Um...I dunno. Mama says only big people do. Maybe I will when I'm a big kid." He pauses._

" _Why do you want to know?"_

_Slightly embarrassed, her purple eyes are quick to flicker away from his questioning gaze._

" _No reason."_

* * *

I indulge myself in the gentle breeze flowing past as we tread the footpath towards the village – not our own, of course, we're far from there – our route embossed into the thickness beneath us. No sooner than later would our tracks be hidden once again by the raining snow, a short journey long forgotten, unlike the events that have occurred in the past few days.

Now is just as good a time to pause our climbing journey. Not for long, of course; time will race past us if we linger for even a second too long, and we're yet to retrieve our entire harvest. The bare scraps we'd managed to just grasp a few mountains ago wouldn't last long for the village. We need to hurry.

Nana sighs deeply, suddenly halting in her tracks.

"I never thought I'd end up back here again."

I turn round to face her, noticing her apprehensively staring down at the white ground, her hands clenched the way they always are when she's worried. Distressed. Nervous. Uneasy.

Scared.

She has good reason to be, too, at least from what she's told me. We both know well enough that Hachigo isn't the most welcoming of places to our kind. 'Snowbats', Nana says they call us, or will do so if they do find out about the things we can do. I feel my stomach seem to turn inside out as I imagine it in my head: the screeches of 'witch! Demons!  _Monsters!',_ stones piercing through the air and stabbing themselves into our skin, a torch-lit mob hunting us fugitives down-

Yet, that was nothing compared to what Nana could have possibly gone through in the few years her family had resided in Hachigo. I know little of it, having never experienced that kind of discrimination myself; I shudder to think about her suffering accounts. Seven years of torment and torture she'd managed to survive, living with distasteful stares and foul words spat at her here, there, everywhere, because they must have known about it, the blessed curse that divided her family from their normal, mundane society.

"Your mother's buried here though, right…? This could be an opportunity to-"

"What's the point of that? You really think they'd have left her gravestone untouched after all this time?" she snaps, heavily scowling at me for just a second. Her face abruptly contorts into one of disbelief, guilt- and her angrily crinkled eyebrows immediately soften into her apologetic expression now crossing her visage. Quickly cupping her hands over her mouth, she adds (scarcely audibly) "Sorry."

I shake my head in response. "I shouldn't have mentioned it. It was my fault."

Nana unexpectedly grabs me by my shoulders, turning me towards her so that I'm directly facing her, meeting her gleaming iris-violet orbs accompanied by her pouty frown, one more of annoyance than of disappointment.

"If I took a shot of Nitopi every time I've heard you say that, I'd be dead by now." She tightens her clutch. "Stop saying everything's your fault."

It doesn't take long for me to notice the double meaning she's lumped into that very statement – I suddenly feel the urge to push her away and shove past her begin to fill me once again, but not yet to the brim, so I settle for a simple aversion of her gaze. But no matter how hard I try to focus on the not-particularly-fascinating shrub of snowdrops off the path, she only holds on tighter, her fierce aura refusing to dissipate as she stares daggers.

Finally, she relaxes her grip, also gazing off to the side as we stand rooted to the ground, neither of us uttering a single word. The fact that she's still adamant on lecturing me on  _that_  is nearly as irritating as the litters of Topis that we've faced: constantly freezing up cove passages, hurling icicles directly at us (only for us to deflect them back), never actually disappearing…

Sometimes, when I'm especially ticked off at Nana, I start calling her a Topi for no reason other than the fact that at those points in time, she seems very like one.

She exhales tiredly, forcing a faint smile. "Let's not worry about the villagers too much. It's not like they'll be able to tell off the bat that we have the magic, right?" Nana pauses. "Pun  _not_ intended." Brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, she quickly spins on her heel, starting to continue on as if that short moment had never happened.

I hate how tense I grow whenever petty spats like this happen between us. It's rare enough for us to even fight in the first place, and in the event that we do – unfortunately, very much like our current predicament – often we find it simple enough to merely give one another a nod of approval, short apologies that say more than enough, then there we are, back climbing the mountain once more. This climb, however, isn't going to be a breeze as gentle as the wind swooping past. It never was in the first place.

So if I'm so used to this, why do the ropes around my waist feel so tight?

* * *

The snow crunching beneath our feet sounds heavier than it should. Each step we take further into the grounds of Hachigo leaves me feeling even more dubious, as the wet sludge I'm dragging myself through unsuccessfully tugs at me, trapping me in this picturesque hell.

Hachigo itself is a breathtakingly scenic landscape, though it's significantly smaller in size in comparison to Yukino. If it weren't for the fear instilled in me the moment I set foot here, I'd be more than happy to spend a longer time here. That thought soon becomes a brief daydream, the scenes playing through like a puppet show as I envision what could be – ambling hand in hand alongside Nana, listening to melodic words spoken of happy vignettes of a long-lost childhood away in a world where we knew nothing of one another, ignorantly innocent. A memory that could be, were it not for the absence of the happiness itself.

The first thing that I'd noticed upon entering, however, was the warmth this cold place emanates. Not through its people; though no villagers make any efforts to shun us, they make an equal one out of welcoming us to their residence, not particularly bothering to observe us by any means. It appears this side of Icicle Mountain (the east) exhibits more of the sun's rays than it ever has back home. While the air is almost as chilling as our northern winds at home, brightening warmth envelopes our surroundings, awakening flora unknown as they gaze up to that godly light. Pure white snowdrops are a common sight in our region, but they could never compare to the deep azures of these alpine gentians in bloom, or the lilac campion daintinesses sprinkled across the snow like purple rain. If there's one thing Hachigo is best known for, it's its natural beauty. The whole place seems a little like a quaint garden of wonders at first sight, and would do even more so if the community did kind enough to accompany that impressive bewilderment their visitors meet.

As for the cottages that compose the village's presence, they're no bigger than the smaller cabins of Yukino, but instead of firm log roofs protecting their interiors, they're instead topped by thickly thatched coverings of straw, giving off a somewhat medieval vibe. The windows, whilst still made of glass, have an additional wooden door concealing them, a few with mini flower-boxes perched onto a couple of apertures that add a spike of colour to the dull brown clay walls. Yet those petals speckled around the village are the only true source of colour in the place – while it's admittedly beautiful, the drab buildings themselves, though I hate to say it, almost spoil the astonishment of the natural surroundings.

"...We'd best find an inn or somewhere to stay for a night or two soon," I wonder out loud, briefly scanning the architectures around me. Nana doesn't reply, only nodding to signal that she heard my statement. Though the sun is still present in the sky, the latter is now a soft golden shade, harmoniously accompanying its star as it gradually begins to set behind the mountain.

The pair of us roam around the village for a while in silence. There isn't much for me to say to my partner at this point in time since her awkward shuffles more or less tell the fact that she isn't willing to speak. There's that tight worry rippling in my stomach again – like I'm scared any sound that leaves my lips will stab her as painfully as it did earlier. At this point, I can't tell if I'm just being insecure or if it's the eerie unfriendliness of this place.

We eventually come across a small hostel affordable enough for both of us when sharing the few pyks we have between us – thankfully, just enough to pay for our needs. Similarly to earlier, upon our arrival into the building, no onlookers take much notice of us, most of them far too engrossed in their own conversations and activities to notice the foreign tourists strutting in.

When I say that it's small, I mean it's small. There's quite a crowd packed into the lobby down here, with more or less all of the tables occupied by customers. Without a doubt, many of the lodgings upstairs are probably going to be just as congested, so I begin to doubt whether we'll be able to reserve a space.

Luckily for us, the queue by the counter quickly disintegrates after several drinks of Nitopi are hurriedly served, their stench disappearing with their new owners. Shortly after, Nana and I are the next to be managed, our slightly awkward gazes meeting an elderly woman's worn wrinkled face, her expression fatigued.

Being one of the first people to acknowledge us, she smiles weakly. "And how can I help you two young'uns?" the woman asks with a raspy voice.

"Uh, we'd like to have a room for one night, please." I reply, placing the pyks on the counter hesitantly. Something about this woman is oddly intimidating.

This only causes her to grin even more, so much that it almost seems forced for the sake of selling her business to us, the corners of her mouth stretched across the length of her face.

"Not g'nna get up to any naughty business now, 're we?"

I sense Nana tense up at the old lady's little 'joke', abruptly slamming both of her hands onto the tabletop as she exclaims, "That's not- we're not like-!"

Half-expecting the woman to simply laugh along, it's my turn to stiffen as her expression flashes from one of vague friendliness into leering suspicion, as she sceptically looks Nana up and down.

"You seem familiar, lass."

Nana freezes. I'm about to open my mouth to provide much-needed back-up for her, but she answers before I can, plastering a less nerved mask onto herself. In the sweetest voice she can muster, she responds, "Do I? I don't recall having been here before, I'm afraid," with a light chuckle.

Another uncomfortable pause fills the air between us and the innkeeper, who thinks to herself for a moment. To both our inner reliefs, she isn't able to place her finger on when she may have seen Nana before, and her tight frown loosens back into a frail simper. Sliding the pyks towards herself, she places them into a small moneybox, before handing us a key each for our lodging.

"Of course you hav'n't, dearie. My instinct's wearing out as much as I am already." She nods her head. "I apologise for the suspicion, sweetheart. See, somethin' was tryn'a tell me a lovely little girl such as yourself was one of those disgusting snowbats, right?"

Nana winces at the mention of the label, but retains her calm, honeyed composure in front of the old granny, who continues her drone.

"Last dirty bunch of them took off years ago, thank God for that," she spits. "That Hana, she was such a lovely, respectable young lady, 'nd then she decided to marry that demon. Worst thing's th't they produced a dirty little brat, too. You couldn't even call her a girl, not the way she is." The fear in me that had been faintly present upon our entrance into this wretched place crescendos with every hateful word that exits her resentful mouth. In Nana, however, doesn't seem to be fear: her slight trembles are evidently growing into livid shivers, her camouflage melting away as her inner fire burns with increasing fury every second. Now I have more than one thing to be worried about.

"I rememb'r feeling nearly 'arf sorry for that little monster. If her mother'd married a normal man, she'd be born just as human as the rest of us." the woman titters, shaking her head disappointedly.

"Marrying that beast was the end of her humanity. Ended up shrivelled up and sickly by the time she was 25. I bet his plan the whole time was to kill her slowly, just like that."

Those last words leaving her mouth are the trigger to Nana's avalanche. She looks as if she's about to burst into a fit of rage if she hears anymore, so I quickly interject the innkeeper's spiteful monologue, saying,

"Well, it'd certainly be dreadful if there  _were_  any of them here."

"Darn right you are! They'd kill us all in one blizzard." She seems to ignore or not notice the unintentional drop of sarcasm in my reply. The woman starts muttering inaudible complaints and whatnot to herself, so I immediately seize the opportunity to hastily thank her for her 'hospitality' before dragging Nana away with me back outside. She needs some cold air, anyway.

* * *

When we're far enough from the hostel and its listening ears, Nana allows herself to let out a loud scream of frustration, anger, sadness, hatred and sorrow. She sinks down to the ground, hugging her knees to her chest as she sobs, and I fall with her, accompanying her in her melancholy.

"I hate this place." she whimpers.

I don't say anything in reply, unsure of whether I should reply in the first place. Nana will want me to say something instead of giving her the silent treatment, but I've never been good with words, even if I am in her eyes.

I decide a gentle hug will suffice, and I wrap my arms around her figure, careful not to squeeze too tight.

She continues to sniffle between her faint tears, but slowly brings her arms up to hold me. I'm almost able to hear the smile on her face when she murmurs, "Thank you," through muffled hands.

There was a time a couple of years ago, when we'd just began to ascend into adolescence, where I was far too shy for my own good to even touch my friend (let alone hold her hand), partly because I was too awkward to be as close to her as we had been as young children, but mostly because I was scared.

I was scared of onlooking gazes and the thoughts that might cross their minds if they saw us...like that. It wouldn't look like innocent playfulness between two good friends – no, it would be twisted into an undeclared attraction of that sort, twisted with our growth. Saying "we're just friends" never made a difference anyway, did it? It just  _had_  to be, of course. There was no way our friendship  _wouldn't_  become that romance, sooner or later. Because you can't be just friends when it comes to boys and girls.

That's why I'm cherishing this moment, a moment where I can be Nana's friend, nothing more or less, free from the bold judgemental leers of the world. A girl that deserves the best love she can get, with the best friends she can have in the best place on this planet. Sometimes, I really do wonder if it was by fate that we ended up meeting, like some kind of thread between us that's existed since forever.

Our friendship is my duty, one I'm glad to have, and I refuse to fail.

"I don't want them to hurt you," Nana whispers. She quietly laughs for a short moment, continuing, "Even if they catch us, I'll get the worse punishment anyway, so that's good. I'm sure they'll love having a familiar face to beat up."

I barely notice my embrace tighten ever so slightly. "That won't happen, so don't think about it. I'll make sure it doesn't."

"What, are you my bodyguard or something?" she chuckles.

"Obviously."

Nana finally looks up from her lap, turning her head to face me with an impish grin. "It's meant to be the other way round, dummy."

Rolling my eyes with a smirk, I shoot back, "Well, we'll both be happy if we agree to be each other's bodyguards. Do we have a deal?" I ask, extending my hand out to her.

She returns a knowing stare, smiling as she grasps my hand between both of hers.

"Deal."

* * *

"Is this all we need?" I hold up a couple of ropes to show Nana, who's preoccupied with some weird thingamabobs on display in a nearby stall. We're currently browsing the evening market, a unique feature of Hachigo that can't be found anywhere else (most merchants back in Yukino are too lazy to stay out for the rest of the night), gathering spare supplements we'll need to traverse the next few mountains with.

"Ropes and a few water bottles should be enough," she hollers back, still concentrated on the trinkets. Curious, I make my way over to her to see what's stealing her attention so badly. The stall keeper doesn't seem at all bothered by Nana's own interest in his goods, just standing there watching her inspect the various products he has for sale with a tired look on his face.

Taking a look myself, I observe various rocks and shimmering crystals along a couple of shelves, presumably artifacts from the seller's own travels that he has no longer use for; minuscule snow globes with wooden displays encapsulated within them, lightweight pebbles used to mimic the falling snow; wooden ornaments resembling flora and fauna alike, with intricately carved features, and-

Hanging from parts of his stall are short threaded bracelet-like straps, which I then understand are accessories designed to adorn bags, wrists, hair – the colours woven into them create a satisfying harmony with one another. Nana's eyes appear illuminated by one particular one, however; it's a strap braided with pink and blue threads, with delicate crystals between several of the strings, giving off the appearance of snow crystals sprinkled along it. The colours alternate: pink, blue, pink, blue, all tied together into one structure.

"How much do you want for one of those?" I inquire, pointing to the strap Nana's focused on. She suddenly looks up, only just noticing my presence, but I don't return her look for the moment.

"They come in pairs," the stall keeper replies with a monotone. "3 pyks for a pair."

Without delay, I pass the coins over, in exchange for the straps that the man happily hands over to me (I assume we're one of the few sales he's gotten in a while), and I, in turn, present one of the straps to Nana. She blinks back at me for a second, bewildered.

"I was just looking. You didn't have to go to all that trouble," she sighs, rolling her eyes with a slight blush. When she faces me again, there's an odd curious glint in her eyes, as if she thinks I have some kind of pre-meditation behind buying the accessory for her.

I just smile back. "Don't worry about it," I reply, hardly noticing the rise in heat in my cheeks from her reaction. This prompts her to let a smirk cross her face again, and she pats the other strap in my hand.

"This is the first time we've gotten matching friendship bracelets. Like, ever!"

Oh, so that's what they are. It sounds like something I should know, but no matter. If they're friendship bracelets, then maybe she's got the message already.

A short period of quietness passes between us as we begin our journey back to the inn before I speak again.

I give myself a deep breath. "Um..."

She stops walking for a moment, quizzically raising an eyebrow. "Hm?"

"...Think of it as an apology, I guess."

I'm not quite sure how I expect Nana to respond, because I'm too busy thinking over the bad ways this could possibly go. I don't want her to get the wrong idea or anything- not that she will, of course, but it's hard to tell with her.

Instead, she shakes her head, though a weird grin is still imprinted on her face. "You don't need to be sorry for anything, Popo. I was being hard on you, so- so I'm the one who should be saying sorry." She beams up at me, even though we only have a bare height difference.

"Oh, what are you talking about? I overreacted and said all those awful things, things no one needs to hear-"

"Popo." Nana's stare is now one of sternness, slightly scrunched up into a serious frown. "I'm...glad you've realised your mistakes. But let me admit to mine too, okay?"

It's weird for me to say it out loud, but that's an oddly selfless thing for Nana to say. Not that I'm doubting her, but-

"I thought I understood your suffering, but I've realised something now." She carries on talking.

"There's no way, ever, that I'll understand it. Just like how...how, I won't ever really comprehend some things about you. Like why you always,  _always_  blame yourself for everything, even when you really don't need to, or why you're never truly sure of yourself. It's sad, but I can still appreciate you the best I can, right?"

Stunned, I can't immediately think of a response to Nana's musing. My mind's still trying to process what she's saying.

"But that time, when I thought I was saying what was best for you, I was just being selfish. Like I usually am, but I- I don't want to be, it slips and..." She laughs nervously, before stuttering uncontrollably again. "No, I shouldn't be making excuses. I mean, there aren't any- I...I guess what I'm trying to say is..."

It's very rare for me to see Nana like this, an often confident, outspoken girl like herself lost with her words. Twisting a braid around her finger, she grants herself a moment to inhale and exhale, calming herself.

"I'm sorry for being an awful friend," she says, a sad, cracked smile forming.

My eyes widen, bewildered by this sudden change in behaviour. "Nana, you're anything but that! What's up with you?" I can't stop blinking repeatedly, confusion clouding my head as I try to face who  _should_  be Nana, standing in front of me, yet...she isn't acting it. "Why are you saying all of this...this nonsense?"

But she only laughs again. "It's not nonsense, silly."

"It is if I say it is," I rebut, sounding a little more aggressive than I like. I murmur a brief apology before continuing.

"You're amazing. You know that, right?" The words I try to form come out shaky, to my discontentment. But they need to be said.

"That's what I'd like to think," she grins, though hints of tears sparkle against her eyes. "if it was true."

"Which it just so happens to be," I argue, briskly taking her hands into mine. I can't help but furrow my brows as I continue my inspirational lecture (at least, I hope it is).

"You're no more perfect than I am-"- both her eyebrows raise as she realises that I've paraphrased the words she imparted to me nights ago - "-and that's okay. You can be clumsy and reckless, you don't think before doing things, but most of all,"

I raise a hand, my index finger pointed up so I can gently poke Nana's nose; she can only pout in retaliation.

"You use your mouth to insult yourself too much, even when you don't realise it. I wish you wouldn't, honestly. I wish you'd realise how strong you are, whether it's when you climb or when you stand up for people or… or even when you're dancing." That last statement brings a small grin across her face. I know if I give her time to speak, she'll make some snarky comment about how she can't dance despite everything I've said, so I keep on going.

"You aren't perfect, but you're better than that. You're so imperfect it's surpassing perfection. That's why you're my friend." I pause. "So, to correct your sentence: you're a brilliant friend."

It's only then after I say that last part that I realise my eyes were closed as I said it – when I next open them, Nana's face is one of shock. Anyone might expect her to be in tears, having them stream down her face to accompany her perplexity, but her violet irises are only opened wide, in a surprised stare. She looks as if she's still attempting to comprehend what message I tried to deliver to her, so I don't say anything for a while, letting the silence drown out my worries instead.

Nana curtly shakes herself a little, brushing herself down until she feels she can face me again. Her purple eyes look as if they're glistening even more than before when she was first met with surprise, kind of like the rocky crystals and gems from the stall earlier. Maybe better.

"Right back at ya, Popo. Thanks."

She pulls her hands away so she can inherit the capacity to yank me into a tight bear hug - short but sweet, even though I can't move my arms at all. A brief giggle escapes her lips, and she smiles again, before pulling the bracelet back out of her pocket. She ties it onto her right wrist, firmly and tightly. As it sparkles on top of her leather brown gloves, she says, "Put yours on, too."

Initially, the thought startles me, what with the whole idea of me wearing a bracelet seeming too surreal to consider, but I agree anyway. I latch the strap onto my left, concealing part of it with my parka sleeve and glove so that it's safely nestled away. Placing my wrist side-by-side with Nana's hand, I observe the match between us.

With a slight flush, I murmur, "Does it look alright?"

"I mean, duh. Obviously, it does," Nana smirks. "'Cause I'm wearing mine with you."

An odd warming happiness ripples in my stomach. "Is that so?" I chuckle.

"Uh-huh. I wouldn't match a friendship bracelet with a stranger."

"Mm...maybe we should have gotten some for Miko and Riko, too-"

But I don't finish, because I'm interrupted by a loud "No!" blurted out by Nana. She turns pink, almost blending in with her parka, save the puffy whites of her hood and sleeves, but it reminds me of her abrupt outburst earlier at the peak of our recent mountain. Whatever it is that's pushing her weird behaviour, it probably isn't something I should pursue right now.

Muffling her voice with the rough material of her gloves, she mutters "Sorry. Uh, what I meant was...well, it'd be cooler if we kept this between us, right?" It sounds more like a half-hearted excuse she made up five seconds ago, though I don't pay attention to that for the time being.

I shrug. "If that's how you want it, I guess."

It doesn't matter to me either way. It shouldn't. I mean, well, having just this one thing special to me and Nana only is somewhat lifting in spirit, yet I can't help but feel a pang of guilt for not thinking of my other friends imminently. I guess Nana only came to mind first because she was closest to me at the time.

"I mean...I know they're friendship bracelets. I get what you mean and everything, but-"

Mid-sentence, she turns towards me.

"-they were sold in pairs for a reason."


	7. follow the leader

" _I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."_

_Hands on her hips, she smirks with a mischievous gleam in her leer._

_But he only laughs back. "That's not going to work on me, silly."_

_A pout crosses the girl's young face – a face no longer bearing the ripe chubbiness of an infant, nor the maturity of a lady. Most would assume she had perhaps nine or ten years of age, though they'd be a year or two off that guess. Her face shortly brightens again as she conceives another mechanism to torment her companion with, so she grins:_

" _Are you going to make me go through a list of girls or something?"_

" _You can try me."_

* * *

He blinks, somewhat startled by my reply. Perhaps it's because it sounds out of character or because I keep randomly yelling nonsense at the wrong times, but he can only stare back in response, perplexed.

"There were only two of these colours anyway. We wouldn't have had enough for Miko and Riko."

I sound so selfish...but that's on par with most things I say, right?

"Is something wrong, Nana?"

"What?"

His visage creased by a concerned frown, Popo raises an eyebrow curiously at me- he's doing it  _again_. Those brilliant night blue eyes piercing through my thickly coated parka like an ice axe plunging into a frozen sheet. If I'm not careful, the packed ice is going to melt.

"You've been acting a bit weird at times."

Evenings in Hachigo are usually warmer than the day, oddly enough. I wonder if it's affecting the ice. It's as if the beaming flames from the sun only decide to linger after their bearer hides behind the horizon; their heat embracing everyone, everything, every bit of me.

I barely notice my finger twirl my braid in circles. "I act weird all the time. What's your point?"

"You know exactly what I mean, Nana."

My feet grow heavy, unlike the lightness that was carried by the threads around my wrist when I'd tied it. Though we're both at a standstill, I'm anchored by those same strings as I convince myself to make eye contact with him. I sigh.

"I've just had a lot on my mind." With enough effort, I manage to uproot my feet from the ground and grin, "But it's nothing important, so don't worry about it, okay?"

That's right. It's nothing.

I almost trip out of haste as I begin to skip ahead of Popo, ahead of his confused gaze before he starts to follow me again. Instead of turning to see if he's not too far behind me or not, my gaze focuses on the hollow of houses and small inns lying before us, faint whispers of candlelight echoing from their windows. They illuminate our sky here like stepping stone lanterns; they illuminate our path and the dim light behind our eyes.

When we arrive back at the hostel the first thing I want to do is fling myself onto my bed upstairs and fall away from reality's realness, but my grumbling stomach decides against it and I accompany my friend to the confined seating area littered with overturned crates and barrels for seats, the "tables" barely any larger. I doubt the nourishment cooked by that old hag's anything delectable enough to satisfy my taste buds, but at this point, I'd gladly feast on a rotten table. This is probably what happens when you live off vegetables for weeks on freezing cold glaciers.

...At least it's hot food.

* * *

"Hey, sleepyhead. Rise and shine."

The vibration of my vocal cords barely mewls a groan muffled by the downy fluffiness of my pillow, enough of an indication of my unwillingness. Why Popo's bothering to even try and rouse me from my sleep is a mystery to me – but he goes ahead and ruffles my hair lightly, prompting me to retrieve enough spirit to (attempt) to push away his hand.

Refusing to move any more, I mumble, "I haven't slept in a proper bed since... forever. Go away."

In truth, the bedding provided for our lodgings isn't anything spectacular, but it certainly feels comfier than lying on chilling snow that drowns you in your sleep. My duvet continues to wrap me with its fur's hugging warmth, encasing me like a cocoon and defending my slumber as I continue to dream of h-

" _Hey!"_

Or not.

My shell is swiftly drawn away from me, leaving only my shivering body curled upon the mattress before I catch a glimpse of his stern expression, the duvet bundled up in both of his hands whose grip only tightens as he raises an eyebrow. Of  _course_ , I should have guessed he'd bother pulling off a prank like this: Popo, the chief's son who'll get things his way if he wants to; not a side he shows often.

It's hard for me to stifle my outburst of laughter when I see his eyebrows furrow into a frown, especially when they're combined with his "angry" pout. It's a face that's been morphed similarly into his father's, refined and sagacious, but his gleaming night blue globes of leadership have kept their time. Despite his amusing attempt at wearing a serious manner, his hilariously pathetic idea of a joke vanishes the moment my giggles permeate the air. I can only chortle even harder when I listen to the joyous harmony produced when his laughter joins mine; catching my breath, I gasp,

"Couldn't you have thought of something better than  _that_?"

A faint smirk crossing his face, he replies, "Well, it worked, right?" He lets out another small fit of chuckles before he tosses the duvet back towards me so it lands neatly on top of me once more, though the fuzzy heat gained from it is somewhat milder. My earlier burst into chortles rendered me almost breathless, almost red-faced, and I muster but a vague nod of my head in response.

"Hurry up and get ready, anyway." Popo lightly jerks his head in the direction of the small washroom provided alongside our chamber. "Or we're going to end up leaving late," he adds, stating the obvious. The sun's barely risen above the mountains we can see from our window, but its hazy glow echoes above the range. Overshadowing its triumph is only sky, tinged a tangy violet by the light.

I finally will myself to drag my body off the bed, my feet plopping onto the creaking floorboards before they carry me away. There isn't a necessity for me to get dressed (since nightclothes hadn't been a priority on our packing list and would have been a waste of space anyway), so I only briefly brush myself down and wash my face before cleaning my teeth. My braids haven't been untied since last evening, stray strands of dishevelled hair detaching from the delicate ribbons I usually weave them into; there isn't a mirror present in the washroom for some odd reason.

As I pull at the weak threads holding their remains together, I re-enter the main chamber with curtains of cedar brown falling beside my face, ending just by my elbows. I notice Popo's eyes widen a little as he observes my unbraided coiffure, with – is that the slightest hint of blush? No... - though it isn't the first time he's seen it. Before I can say a word, however, he averts his gaze to the fascinating objects within his pack instead. Away from me.

"Aren't you packing too?" he inquires without looking up.

I roll my eyes. "I'm not ready yet," I sigh, absent-mindedly feeling my way around the bedside table

for my comb. "Have you seen my hair?" He can't lie his way out of that.

"You don't look that bad."

Trying to play the clown again? I can only scoff at his remark, despite how casually he'd said it as if it was a breeze of a fact to understand like the whistling winds here. "I appreciate your manners, Popo. But I need serious help."

Beckoning me over to him, where he's sat on his own bed fiddling with possessions, Popo produces his own pair of hair bands, coloured crimson like my own. My subsequent blink of surprise is followed by a curt "Sit here," when he pats the spot on the bed beside him, sliding the bands onto his wrist ready to tie.

I don't need to question what he's doing; it's a scene I've familiarised myself with over the growth of our time together, my companion's tactful fingers gently knitting my locks into beauty only he seems to be able to provide for me. I remember the times I'd repeatedly taught the steps over and over again to him, the frustration I openly voiced when the spirals were lopsided and wonky. At first, I'd thought it couldn't be helped – he was (and is) a boy, after all. But now the student has surpassed the master, and I feel a light chuckle rise from the warmth of my chest produced by my reminiscence.

"Do we have an actual plan for catching that wretched thing?" I muse. For the past eight peaks, we've just been chasing after it as soon as it takes off to the next mountain – not before it littered a few stray vegetables out of the sack it clutched to. Thus, it's simultaneously one of our only sources of food when we're not at a village: pick out the bits of the harvest that haven't been bruised too badly and refuel ourselves. Our only current hope is to officially capture or eliminate the beast and safely retrieve the sack without any injuries. The speed is the only thing we lack. Or is it the height in our leaps? Even so, we're only human, despite what some may call our inhumanities.

"Well. If what the legends say is true, it'll just lead us around the surrounding peaks of Icicle Mountain while it can. It knows we won't be able to catch it that way, and we'll be stuck in an endless loophole."

Whether those tales are valid or not, no one can be sure; things only pass by word of mouth, of course, and have done so for generations. Our village's particular elder was the one to impart these stories to us and fellow peers as children, warning of how the rise of the monstrous condor was once again nearing with every passing day and night. Of how he would pillage our homes of our delicious life, our rejuvenating resources, our survival. He cried of how he feared our lives would never be as long as our ancestors before us.

But if they were able to get through it all, we should too.

I sigh again. "Everyone'll have starved to death by then."

Popo flawlessly secures both of my braids, tying them with just the right amount of tightness, and only nodding in response. "That's why it's up to us to capture it," he replies.

For a while, I don't say anything, my gaze fixated on his own focus in handling my hair, as if it's some faithful duty. Perhaps I'm reading too deep into it, though. He looks up to meet my eyes, upon noticing my daydreaming stare, smiling kindly. "Anyway, I think I'm finished here. Is that better?"

I grin back with affirmation. "It's best!"

"You flatter me." His smile broadens ever so slightly upon hearing my compliment. Popo smiled a lot when we were kids, I remember. He was always so...happy to do things – not in the hyperactive, fervent manner of most juveniles, though, he always preferred to enjoy his luxuries quietly. I'd barely heard him talking to himself amongst his toys when I'd entered his room for the first time, entered the village for the first time, my Papa with his Papa explaining our pickle, and I finding a friend. We were happy – are happy – to have forged a bond with one another, set in wood.

We'd scratched something in one of the hundreds of spruce trees of the forest a long time ago, a year or two after we befriended each other. Whatever it was, it marked our everlasting friendship. It hasn't failed us yet.

Will it last longer if I carve deeper into the bark? Deeper thoughts?

I snap back to reality as Popo lightly nudges me on the side. "You're daydreaming again." How long have I been quiet for? I ask myself dumbly. I give myself a small shake before replying, brushing my silence off as casually as he spoke earlier.

"What if we just skip everything?" I say suddenly.

"Huh?"

Hesitation chokes my throat, but I fight it and continue. "I mean, just...if we get up Icicle Mountain before the thing. We'll have an advantage over it, right?"

"Do you even know what you're saying, Nana?!" Popo's voice is abruptly louder than it was before, a terraced dynamic compared to the softness I previously described. He's not angry, but his tone is incredulous, both his eyebrows and eyes widened like huge (blue) snowballs. I can't pretend I don't know why, though.

"What, would you rather we just chase it around in circles?" I accidentally snap back a little too harshly, so I murmur an apology. He dismisses it, however, instead reiterating his earlier bewilderment:

"We'll  _die_  trying to even attempt that peak, dummy. What good will that do for everyone?"

I shake my head. Why doesn't Popo understand me when I want him to? "They'll starve to death in both scenarios. I don't mean to sound morbid, but it's the truth, right?" After he doesn't say anything except a quiet mutter to himself that I ignore, I add, "If we get this over with sooner, everyone will have to suffer less. That's what good it'll do."

To be brutally honest, I'm not sure which method I prefer. Simply circling the mountain endlessly – a bore that would come with bags of time for me to indulge in their luxury. Time spent with- you know what I'm going to say, right? Though, then we'd die slower, or just as sluggishly as everyone back home would. We'd run out of supplies one day. But at this point, even death seems bearable if I'm alongside a friend. Then our bond would truly be frozen, unbreakable, eternally forever.

If that didn't happen, what could the outcome be? There are other villages just like this one that we could stay in whenever we need rest or food. If we aimlessly followed the condor around, like a cat with yarn, what would we be? Travelling nomads for the rest of our years? Hand in hand, maybe we'd revisit vignettes of memories we make along the ring we ambled along, even if we only pass the same houses, trees, mountains every time. Just the two of us, together. We'd never go home. Perhaps at home, they'd think we were killed, having met the same demise as our seniors, but little would they know, we were instead living in our own world, where no one could rouse us from our sleep-

Shuddering at the thought, I bury my selfishness away. The realisation that I just conceived such an idea leaves a sour taste on my tongue – how I detest my ego! I know well enough Popo could never agree to such a nightmare. I wouldn't if I were him either. He's too selfless for that; he has a heart.

Not that I don't. I believe- I think mine has darker conceit on it than his.

"It might be better than our current plan-" -at this, my head swiftly turns towards Popo, eager at his agreement- "-if it works perfectly. With no obstacles, whatsoever. Anything could end us, after all."

Perfection. I hate the word. It's what Popo's always striven for, even when we were little. I suppose it can't be helped considering the household he was raised in, right? His mother was one of the kindest women I've ever known, but she was conservative, everyone knew that well enough while she was still here. She admired and praised tradition. I wonder how much she talked about chiefdom to her son; probably enough for him to chatter about it himself all the time. Heck, even this whole journey is for the sake of him preparing to be a good chief, chief this, chief that, chief everything. I want to vomit.

I resist the urge to voice my irritation, instead pursing my lips and clarifying, "I suggested that idea because I want it to be  _fun_ , Popo. Not perfect."

He's obviously getting increasingly annoyed with me, too, because he retorts, "This isn't about  _fun_ , Nana. We're doing this because it's our duty to the village."

_We led it back to them, after all._  Those unspoken words still screech through his clenched teeth, an undead whisper. They poison the air so it reeks of hurt, like the painful jab in my stomach.

"I'm not saying it isn't, okay? I just want us to-"

"To what?" he interjects. Is this why I was nervous to suggest this to my partner? A flame that usually flickers faintly, a spark barely visible in the deepness of his orbs, vulnerable to the demon of temper as we all are, has aroused that flame into a forest fire-

That's an exaggeration. He isn't as angry as he was last time, but it still sends chills down my spine. I have the luck of witnessing Popo's rages in the rare event that they do occur as his closest friend, a privilege and curse wrapped in one gift box.

I pause, still unsure if I should pursue the matter further. Our eyes are locked by determination, each of our own's meshed into one force secured by our silence. Then my earlier vanity haunts me again, providing me with the key that fits this lock. So I finish my sentence.

"I want us to cherish the time we have together like this. In case...in case something like, like what you said happens."

I wait for the avalanche to fall, wait for his barely creased calmness to contort into fury. The snow never collapses. It floats daintily, instead. Popo's face displays shock very briefly, then concern, then...sadness? The smallest hint of tears seem to bead up amongst his eyes, but not enough for him to sob, I don't think. Without me expecting it, he takes my ungloved hand into his own, softly this time- what? I'm so taken aback by this weird affection I only barely notice the blood flowing into my cheeks as they redden. Despite my awkward predicament, I force myself to face Popo, who's still looking at me with worry.

"What's that supposed to mean? Now you really do sound morbid." The question isn't asked as irritably as the previous one, a somewhat comforting gesture I briefly take note of.

I laugh nervously. "I think it's worth a try, Popo. But if anything happens, I'll be the one to fall for you." That remark only stuns him more, but before he can argue anything in return, I add, "Besides, lead climbers are supposed to be able to survive on their own. I'm sure you can-"

"You're wrong." Now he's shaking his head vigorously, like it'll make my words dissipate into the air.

"What? Hey-"

Popo pulls me towards him all of a sudden, he's tightly hugging me, holding me against his chest, his breathing heavy with apprehension as he realises what he's doing, but he carries on nevertheless. It perplexes me even further than earlier, everything happening around me like a blizzard, a whirlwind caging me and clouding me from any understanding I could have of the situation around me. I feel as if Popo will suspect even more of me if I don't respond, so I battle my trembles and return his embrace, nervously at first, but I feel my fondness sink deeper into our connection as we hug for longer.

"If climbers can survive on their own in the first place, then why do we get paired up with others?" he asks me quietly.

I give a little shrug, restricted by the tension of our embrace. "Support. Back-up. It's safer, but it's not necessary."

"You were right on the first thing you said."

"What?"

"Support."

I wish he'd stop being so mysterious and just tell me what he wants to say. Yet, as I think it over, I realise his mystery is what I adore much about my friend. I decide to let him carry on being a fascinating mystery, so I wait for him to speak again.

"I need you here for me as much as you need me here for you. Or, at least, I'd hope so," Popo chuckles. "For starters, there're sections of the glaciers we've scaled that I couldn't have accomplished alone. I'd be dead by now without you."

"I'd be bawling like a baby isolated in those caves without you to constantly ramble in my ears every hour of the day. Every day, I'd have let regret fill me to the brim and I wouldn't have cared if it spilt out. Because you wouldn't have been there to tell me."

"I wouldn't have known anything about this place, either. I wouldn't be as careful as you warned me to be when we arrived. I wouldn't notice the suspicions, the glares. You've been like a shield to me, so...let me be one for you too. A guy needs pride somewhere."

"Besides, newbies are meant to stick together." He's quoting me in that last sentence, except he isn't. He's twisting my despair into light.

At the same time, his touching speech, an anthem delivered straight from his heart (I hope), has me paralysed, unable to speak or move to reply. My lips won't form the words I want to return in exchange for what he's given me; Popo's always traded in reason. But my hands can't move to find the right payment.

_I well I sort of well I don't know how to explain um I don't like I l-_

My mind is plagued by a traffic of words, too many for me to handle or think about. There's no way I can tell him anything.

With as much reassurance as I can muster, I tighten my grip around Popo's body, a gentle squeeze. If I'm not careful, I'm going to cry, or scream, I don't know, but it's all going to fall down if I speak. I should learn to keep my mouth shut at times, Papa said once, when I was being a naughty little girl. Harsh words that I can now thank. But does he understand what I'm trying to say now, even though I'm silent?

"If we go, we're going together. Everywhere and anywhere, Nana."

I want to believe that he does.


	8. questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh...long time no see. But I decided to finish off this chapter instead of doing my Art coursework, lol. (I've only got some painting to do so it can wait :P) This only adds up to about 1.5k words for the chapter alone, but maybe that's enough - I try to write at least 1k per chapter, so yeah lol.
> 
> Enjoy :D

_And with those very whispers that had entered his ears, he became the safe keeper of their truths._

" _...You won't tell anyone, right?" she asks apprehensively._

_He grins back. "You know I wouldn't do that, dummy!"_

" _You trust me, right?"_

_"Yes," she replies without hesitation._

" _You're my best friend, after all."_

* * *

We return to our strenuous trek, one that can only grow even more so.

The odious beauty of Hachigo shrinks further back into the surrounding snow as we flee its leering gaze, trudging once again, but not drowning in the treacherous seas any longer. We are safe, and a wave of relief splashes over me instead.

Nana, on the other hand, has a lost air about her. It's like she's possessed by a ghost. A very confused ghost, it seems.

In truth, she hasn't said anything to me since the morning, sans her monosyllabic responses to any inquiries I made towards her. It isn't often that Nana zones out so...easily – sure, she's easily distracted. A lot. But her frequent daydreams are nagging at my own thoughts, prodding my conscience with every step I take alongside her. Every  _crunch_  in the snow reanimates the events of our morning in my head: how quiet she was. How selfless she was. How awed she was.

How different she was.

I don't doubt that she has any affection towards me. You see, her selfishness is not the inconsiderate kind, the type found in most of the similar character. When is selfishness ever  _not_  inconsiderate, one may ask? It's difficult to explain. Her vanity, I know is usually unintentional, accidental, often a backfire from her intended acts of altruism. Nana has no modesty, yet she has no great ego in place of its gaping hole.

It is also difficult to understand. How she sees herself as a brave heroine, how willing she is to take on such a risky mission as our own/how she inspects any flaw she can find in herself, major or minor, and how she tells me she's an awful person. Does she see her self-love as lies she bribes herself with to force herself to carry on, only to unnecessarily punish herself with self-deprecation? Why?

When she cries, she cries of things that she wants. That she thinks she needs. She. I remember her tears when we were told we could no longer stay over at one another's homes – not the nights, anyway – how she bawled over the affair. I remember her father scolding her, then asking her why she was behaving the way she was. She could only answer, "I just want to stay with him," over and over.

As for myself, I hadn't reacted in such a manner. I knew exactly why we were now forbidden from such interactions; surely she must have, too? You've always been more mature than that noisy girlfriend of yours, my mother tittered. I hadn't even bothered to correct her, having been too overwhelmed by Nana's dramatic tantrum.

Perhaps that is a suitable example of her "selfishness". Desire is selfish, but it is not. It's surely possible to want things in the stead of others, is it not? For the sake of others, you can want the best for them, right? Is that selfish?

The journey to the foot of Icicle Mountain is further than the nearest mountain after Hachigo, naturally. It's been about two and a half weeks since we last left Yukino with our first haul of food. The first mountain had been pure luck, getting that much food in the first climb. But we'd established that the portion of the rescued harvest would only last up to a month if the village were to share it out, and considering our population…

We have to hurry.

"Tired yet?" I ask my pink-clad companion. She shakes her head. I glance up at the faintly clouded sky before observing the shadow on my sundial. It's still the early hours of the morning, at least, the time when others are also awake. It's been an hour or two since we departed from Hachigo, so it's probably the right time for a rest.

I gesture towards a small patch of flora accompanied by some conveniently placed rocks. "Let's stop here. I'm a bit worn out."

Setting my pack beside the stone I seat myself upon, I move to beckon Nana to the rock adjacent to my own, but stop myself when I notice her gravitate towards the one directly opposite me. We remain silent.

Several times, my lips start to move in attempts to form threads of words I want to convey to her. Yet, the moment I conceive the sentences in my mind ("Was I weird this morning?" "What's on your mind?" "Did I scare you earlier?" "Do you-") an icicle seems to plummet down onto me, obstructing my path and preventing me from my own desires. Several times, she notices, and several times, Nana's eyes light up like stars glowing, as if she wants to hear what I want to say. But I can't bring myself to say anything. And then her eyes only dim again, returning to the interstellar dream she's engrossed herself in. Her enthusiasm – the only other emotion she's exhibited this whole trek – is the very thing that's pushing me away. Why is her vague joy beaming me away from her? Please, just give me the courage I need, God. Allow me to speak from my-

"You're so silent."

My head shoots up. In uttering my silence, she shatters our own. She demolishes the glass wall built between us by our noiselessness by speaking, and my odd shyness along with it.

I grin back weakly. "Do you like hearing my voice that much?"

"I think it sounds beautiful."

Blood rushes to my cheeks as her statement, like some simple song echoing, escapes into the air, meeting my unsuspecting ears. 'Beautiful' – the word she chose to use. Especially for me? If only. Nana finds a lot of things beautiful. Such is her honeyed outlook on life.

I chuckle nervously, trying not to stumble over the bumps in my tongue's path. "Don't you think that's, um, a bit of an over exaggeration?"

"Don't you think you underestimate yourself too much?" she replies, as if unsurprised by my own response. "I won't repeat myself."

My brain, unable to conjure up a suitable reply, stuns me into silence. I can only stare back at Nana in amazement, an odd warm but surprising sensation snowing over me. Her reciprocal quietness doesn't make the situation any less...awkward, though. So we just gaze at one another for a little while.

Maybe I'm supposed to start describing everything I can notice about her in this moment as I take in her appearance, but there isn't anything more I can say that I haven't already noticed about her in our long time together. She's still Nana, still the quirky and outgoing girl I met years ago in our childhood days, still with the same inquisitive lilac eyes that so curiously admire the world around her, still with a hop and skip in her every step. These things I've all taken in before. They're the special features maybe only I bother to remember.

Ah. I just contradicted myself.

Finally, she cuts through the silence with a small chuckle, and with that, she's back to her usual self once more. It's quite startling, considering her own prior silence, but maybe she's woken up from whatever dream she was stuck in earlier.

"Oh, well, it's not that deep. You know I love you anyways."

"Yeah, I love you too," I casually reply.

Nana's head jerks up for just a second, eyes widened with surprise – and only then do I realise what I just said. Oh, no, no, no-

"Uh, as a friend, obviously!" Just a friend, yes, yes, yes. And I thought I'd drilled that into my head a long time ago.

"Yeah, I know," she laughs, seeming to playing it off. Her wide smile is plastered all over her face again.

It isn't as if it's uncommon for Nana to say that kind of sweet thing to me. She said it all the time when we were little, so I guess the habit's just stuck with her, right? Yeah. I just felt the obligation to return it. It isn't like I  _don't_  love her anyway. I do, but if I declare in front of the world's leering gaze, they'll tell me it's more than it actually is.

"Love" is such a weird word. It means a lot of things at once, yet what it means depends on who, what,  _why_ , how...so many possibilities, huh. It's a puzzle of my own I've tried to solve for an incredibly long time; for years, I've been missing the final pieces. A mountain of my own that I don't think I can scale myself. When you tell someone you love them, what do you mean? What kind of love is it? What of it when you anticipate their response? Why is it such a scary thing? Love hurts, but it comforts too. Is it some kind of two-faced demon that possesses us all?

"I think we've had enough of a break," Nana points out, observing the faint sun's position in the sky. "We should be able to get to Icicle Mountain before nightfall if we leave now."

I blink for a moment, bringing myself back out from the depths of my thoughts. "Uh, yeah."

"Let's go."

So we set off once again, as the same friends we were before. Nothing more and nothing less.


	9. teach me how

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slowly but surely getting to the climax of the whole story - that is, when Popo and Nana finally reach the top of the mountain and defeat the condor! But there'll be more after that with my own twist on things, naturally. Trying to work at building emotions and development up here, too. I really like writing this; it's definitely going to be a story I actually finish with multiple chapters, which'll be a first for anything I've ever posted on here.
> 
> Anyway, enough rambling. Enjoy!

" _How are you so good at_ everything  _you do?" the girl pouts at her companion._

" _I'm not, though," he replies, frowning a little. "You make it sound like I'm perfect when I'm not."_

_She sighs, but smiles back._

" _You're perfect enough."_

* * *

We finally reach the foot of Icicle Mountain after hours of travelling.

The infamous summit isn't within the vicinity of any civilisations or tribes; it resides in the very heart of our vast region, poised triumphantly over our many populations. The surrounding baby peaks are like its minions, guarding its throne, those fangs acting like its very own fortress. But we've managed to plough through the wall of fangs together, and here we are, at the bottom of this notorious peak.

They say many have tried and failed to conquer this mountain. That's what puts off most explorers from approaching it, oddly enough: they're far too attached to the weak thread of life that they've been hung by to risk snapping it. The budding and daring before them who took on the challenge of Icicle Mountain – cliché as it may sound – were never recorded to have returned.

Emphasis on "recorded", of course. There's no proof that they didn't either, right?

The sun is veiled once again by a flurry of clouds overhead, grey and foreboding as they should be around this dastardly peak. It's about noon, I think, and neither of us knows how long we'll be up this mountain for, how long we'll be trapped within its chilling mist amongst the frostbitten boulders and stones. Imprisoned forever…? Together might be nice, but for  _them_  back home – yes, the thought of them back home is the only thing keeping me from running away from it all. I'm here for them, not only for us.

"I have an idea," I blurt out, my intended words of comfort wobbling and shaking. Popo's gaze curiously turns to me. I laugh nervously before I continue.

"This mountain's pretty tough, yeah? We...we might die."

For a moment, his eyes darken as he grunts in affirmation. Not with bitterness or distastefulness, though. With the shivers and quiet of fear.

"What's your idea?" he asks.

I suck in a breath before I answer. This is another step I'm taking to reach the peak of the mountain I'm about to climb.

"Hold my hand when you're scared, and I'll do the same with you. Just to make this a bit better."

Popo blinks, briefly startled by my response and the random idea itself. "But we always hold each other when we're climbing, more or less," he replies.

"Exactly." I smile widely at him, sending out a message of acknowledgement. He doesn't show it, that apprehension, but he can't deceive me, not after all this time. No matter how good he is at lying to everyone else.

He can only blink again, stunned by the words coming out of my mouth, but he nods after a moment, returning my smile and taking my hand into his, our mallets clutched in each of our own other hands. It's enough to warm my cheeks just a little, to keep me warm and cosy enough for the arduous journey ahead of us.

"Ready?"

"As you are."

And so, we set off.

The heights of the mountain are surrounded by the dark blanket of night shortly after we begin to ascend it; of course, we haven't progressed much upwards, perhaps only a few hundred metres, but it's enough for a first day. The end to our journey is so close, yet so far, and I can only hope that it doesn't descend to meet us earlier.

We only stop when we can find a cavern on one of the layers of the mountain we're on, and after evicting any nearby Topis (politely) within our vicinity, we set ourselves down in the hollow, taking a few breaths.

"We've a long ways to go," I sigh loudly. "And here I was hoping we could get just about halfway up today."

Just as fatigued as I am, Popo mumbles, "We got here too late for that. We're not even a quarter of the way up."

"Well, we're better off having trekked a bit of it rather than none of it." I weakly grin, trying to keep the lantern alight for us both. Glancing towards the dim light between us both, it's only then I realise I'm still holding on to something. Something quite hard to let go of.

"What is it?" I raise my eyebrows.

No reply. His expression remains hidden within the depths of his thick hood. I squeeze his hand a little, offering my comfort, but his silence compels him, still.

"You're still holding my hand," I say, stating the obvious.

"I know."

Popo resents it, this human weakness he too has been endowed with, as we all naturally are; even he cannot escape the concrete clutch of fear and dread. This natural fear has muted him, its hand clasped over his mouth, so that he may not speak out or protest against it. His attempts are futile, and he doesn't speak.

"It's okay, I'm terrified too. I kind of regret suggesting this," I laugh nervously.

He soundlessly shakes his head. Attempt three hasn't worked. I guess it's time for attempt four: the silent treatment.

The lights aren't out today; the screen of mist and fog is too opaque, combined with the blackness of the night. Today, the aurora lanterns aren't here to dazzle us with their luminous glow. They've left us alone for now.

Yet, the soft gusts of wind juxtapose the ominous thickness of the fog, barely affecting any of our surroundings. The near silence is bliss, with the pace of each of our faint pulses soothing us with a little regularity and consistency. Like a beat that keeps us climbing on, further and further, endlessly. Eventually, I'll be able to break the ice.

I notice a brief tension tightening around my hand. I try to look at my friend in the eyes again, trying to find the source of his deep blues, but with each glance I make, he darts his gaze away, evading my own prying eyes. Slightly frustrated, I change my soft stare into a stubborn one, obstinate and cold. It's okay, as long as it gets something out of him, even just a single word.

"I'm really scared, Nana."

He finally meets my line of sight.

I smile. "Same here. I-"

"I'm not talking about the mountain," he interrupts somewhat irritably. "even if it is terrifying. It's not that bad." And then he squeezes my hand again. It's basically impossible at this point for me to let go, nor could I possibly find it in me to do so.

I inhale a deep breath, shivering a little from the chilliness around us.

"Then what?"

Popo seems to jolt at the prospect of revealing what troubles him so, almost stunned by my inquiry. He starts, words forming upon his mouth, only for them to dissolve. Lips wobbling, scattered "um"s and "uh"s tumbling out.

"...you..."

The word finally escapes into the wild. My heart sinks. But he doesn't let go, and I'm as lost for words as he is.

I feel like I'm falling into an abyss.

"I...I don't want..."

Please, stop telling me. I don't want to hear it. I don't want the truth. Can't you let me pretend a little bit more?

Those invasive thoughts pierce through my chest, stabbing and thrusting themselves through my weak body. They send waterfalls, rushing out of my eyes. Stop it, silly girl. Stop it, stupid. Idiot. I can't escape, he's still holding on to me, and he won't let go, won't leave it.

"Don't go."

What?

"I can't lose you, I, I can't- I don't-"

"What the hell are you talking about?" I blubber, not even bothering to hide the fact I'm bawling my eyes out.

Hurry up and tell me!

"I'm scared to lose you, or that you'll go, or that you'll let go, or that  _I'll_  let go, and I don't mean to, Nana, honestly, please listen, I don't want-"

Without thinking, I do it.

I shut his mouth with my own palm, muffling any further things he has to say. Just for a little while, he keep blabbering, panicked and hasty, but refrains when he (finally) acknowledges my tears. I can't help but whimper and sniff, despite my futile efforts of resistance. It just doesn't work.

"Slow down." It comes out shaky, but it comes out.

I observe Popo carefully, till I'm sure he won't burst into a fit again, and gently remove my hand from his face. He can only stare back, stupefied, stunned, shocked. But at what?

Then he looks down. "I didn't mean to make you cry. Sorry."

I shake my head. "It's- it's nothing." When he doesn't immediately respond, I add, "Seriously, I'm fine, I'm fine."

For the moment, we're both silent once again, save my occasional sniffles and shudders. The cold seems to rise, clutching to us more tensely. I watch puffs of icy mist leave my lips with every exhale, fluffy, warm mist. I shiver.

"Don't leave me," Popo pleads. "Don't go." His own blue orbs look as if they're about to well up too, teardrops sparkling at the edges of his eyes. But he breathes in deeply, fighting them back, and meets my gaze again.

Where's my smile when I need it? "I...I'm not gonna go anywhere, dummy." I try to choke out a chuckle, only for it to sound more like a dying Nitpicker's cry. "Trust me on that."

"But you said you'd fall for me," he argues. "I don't want you to have to make that sacrifice. You shouldn't have to."

I hesitate, unsure if I want to hear what he'll say next when I already know. "I- I know you think that, but...but, you gotta accept in the worst case scenario, it  _might_  be necessary-"

" _No!_ " At that very point, his grasp on my hand is so tense, so desperate and tight – I feel like my bones might crush beneath it. So tightly is he holding onto me, refusing to let go at all.

I can only cry out in distress in response. At this, he still doesn't release my hand, but loosens his grip enough for it to stop hurting. I breathe out a relieved sigh, opening my eyes to meet his again. At this point, I can't even tell what he's thinking or feeling; his expression is some twisted combination of sorrow, terror, something else – not many things I can put my finger on. But his reserved placidity has long been shattered.

So I have to put his pieces back together.

He asks me a question.

"What do I do, Nana?"

It's impossible not to flinch at the despair and hopelessness embedded within those five words. Yet, what words am I meant to use to counteract their blues? What good can my rose shades and violet flowers offer in exchange for their sorrow?

I don't know.

"...What do you mean?"

He waits to reply for a moment, sunken in thought. "I've no idea how," he finally says. "How can I become..."

"...good enough?"

The frustration I bade earlier seems to wash over me once again, grabbing me almost as tightly as Popo just did. Then I remember the words he spoke to me once before, when I'd fallen into the same pit he now finds himself in. The guilt I felt in belittling and berating him only a few days ago atop one of many snow-capped mountains; even now, it sits in the back of my mind, taunting and haunting my memory. I don't know. I don't know if he feels exactly the same way I especially did back then – no, he can't, not really, since we're all different. Our emotions are unique to each and every one of us. That's what I learned from our last conflict, and I'm not going to try and spark another flame again. I can't.

"But, Popo. You already are."

To that, he doesn't reply, aiming his gaze back at the cave floor once again. He looks ashamed.

"You're- you're one of my closest friends, and for good reason, too. You know that, right? We wouldn't be where we are now if you weren't...um, "good enough", as you've phrased it. I don't know what your idea of a "good enough" person is, but for me, it's someone like you." For sure, I add as an afterthought, privately.

Popo scoffs, somewhat bitterly. "Someone who doesn't have the strength to properly protect you? Someone who doesn't have the courage to lead a village?"

"That's not true," I rebut. "Stop lying."

Then he opens his mouth as if to argue back, triggering the dread inside me yet again, but quickly closes it. So he knows too.

"Sorry. We've been over this already."

I grunt in affirmation, unable to hide the spike of annoyance in my voice. It isn't like I'm not already used to Popo's insecurities about himself. But it's hard for me too; almost as if I'm throwing all my love and affection and words at a wall instead of a person. When that happens, it makes me ask the same question he asked me to myself. Yes...that's how I felt those few days ago.

Then he continues. "I appreciate it, though. Really."

"Well, how do you think I feel? I wish I could give you a good answer too." It almost comes off as a snap, but I manage to restrain myself. I really shouldn't be feeling this way, should I?

Popo shakes his head again. "I don't mind if you don't have an answer. If I want one, I'll make it obvious." He pauses. "I...I know I did ask you a question, but, um- well, I suppose it was somewhat rhetorical. I was thinking out loud and I, well. I ended up laying it all off on you. I'm sorry."

Asking a question without expecting an answer? Mysterious as ever, it seems. Even after seven years of our friendship, I still can't get my head around the labyrinth that is the brain of Popo. How he thinks, why he thinks so, how he feels – he's like a book written in an alien language, sometimes. I wish I was fluent. The bare silence between us for the moment doesn't lessen that desire by a bit.

"How  _can_  I help you if I don't have the right answer, then? I don't get it. I want to help you and make you feel happy, you know. You're my friend."

The surrounding sound is empty, a cacophony of naked nothingness blaring out even louder. It's deafening. I can't hear. So, tell me once more, Popo.

"You listen. And that's enough."


	10. take flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see again, oops. I'm not particularly good at writing action, so I put this off for a bit, but then I finally got around to deciding what I wanted to happen in this chapter :D Hopefully I built the tension up well in this. In case you couldn't tell, I haven't properly planned this story out or anything (which is what seems to be making it work for me, frankly). I'm only going off the rough ideas I have in my head...that is, the start, climax and finale of this story. What's keeping me going is the closer we get to Icicle Mountain's peak, the closer we get to the climax, which I just can't wait to write! But first, filler and action chapters. And character development and relationship build-up and such. I want the growth of this all to be nice and gradual. Hopefully, those of you still reading are willing to watch things grow in this story too. Enjoy reading!
> 
> (10th chapter, eh? I don't think I've ever gotten this far with a fic. Hooray!)

 

* * *

" _Help! Help!" the girl wails, clearly panicked._

_Her father turns to her, concerned."What's wrong? Did something happen? Where's-"_

" _I don't know where he's gone! I haven't found him after ages!"_

* * *

" _You listen. And that's enough."_

They echo endlessly in my head, those five words that I said to my companion a night or two ago. Words I delivered straight from my heart.

She hadn't been able to respond immediately, taking some time to compose herself before staring back at me in bewilderment. She didn't seem to be able to process it at first.

She lectures me so much about my own unhealthy desire for perfection when deep down she houses one of her own. Jeez, she can be pretty blind sometimes. As bad as I feel for saying it, there's a reason I'm the lead climber.

Honestly, I'd kind of blurted it out, not really expecting those to be the words I returned to Nana. I don't really know what I was trying to say to her at that point. It hadn't gone very well either, and I shudder at the thought of our exchange last night. What I'd wanted to deliver calmly and composedly had instead conjured a snowstorm of emotions that tumbled out of my mouth all at once, stabbing both of us along their descent in ways I'd never intended. I'd never wanted to hurt Nana.

"I was just jumping to conclusions too quickly," she'd laughed nervously when I tried to properly repent for my foolish words. "I misunderstood you."

"I just want you to know I'm not upset with you or anything. If I said anything that sounded like that, it's- it's not what I meant," I replied.

But she just nodded casually in return, reiterating her point. "I know that now, so it's okay, silly. It's not that deep."

Is it shallow either, though?

We've resumed our journey up Icicle Mountain, progressing at what I feel is a slug's speed. The summit is still so far away, still dithering away from our grasp. But I know we can't let that thought damage our morale or slow us any further. Time is ticking, and stomachs at home will be grumbling.

Any energy that I might have had for today seems to have been drained from last night, even though I managed to get to sleep. Like my morale's been sucked out of me or something. It isn't that I have no motivation, I just...feel tired. Fatigued and confused. The antics of Nitpickers and Topis aren't making the situation any better, and it's a bother enough to have to hold Nana back from pounding the poor things more than once, as much as she desires to crush them to pulps. Her recklessness is going to be the death of us, if anything.

She'll be the death of me.

The ice beneath my foot starts to crack the moment I leap onto its ridge. I hear its trembling crescendo with my panic- no, I can't be like this. Move faster. My life isn't the only one bound to these ropes. It's this kind of pressure, the kind of fast thinking you have to have built up if you want to survive. I manage to evade the fall of the ice swiftly enough to stab my ice axe into the wall, hanging on for dear life. Only then do I allow myself to exhale.

"Popo? Are you okay?" Nana calls out to me from beneath, not too far away. She chuckles nervously. "That was a close one."

The sound of her voice washes relief over me. "Yeah, I'm alright," I holler back. "We should probably- oh, seriously?"

I narrowly miss (yet another) Nitpicker's bite, managing to duck in time before it can decapitate me. Its screeches pierce through my ears as it starts to back away from where Nana and I are rooted in the mountain wall, preparing to attack again. If we stay put, it won't miss.

Instinct prompts me to continue my climb up the ice, only significantly faster than before – we leap from ledge to ledge, hacking into the frigid solid with the knives embedded underneath our boots. The rope binding us from waist to waist lashes about with our jumps like a whip, cracking and smashing against the ice. Every slash breaks the ice a little more. But it doesn't break our hope of success – success in overcoming one out of many more ice walls to come, success in survival, success in union. Motivation has returned to us once more.

" _Screeeeeee!"_  Its shriek echoes across the mountains, a cacophony of its imaginary friends joining in. It's snapping, clawing at the ice we're on now, scratching at the slippery surface with its claws in the hopes of halting our climb, slicing the thin strings that weave our belay rope together. It yearns to cut our journey short. Agh, but that piercing cry is the only thing ringing throughout my ears, bouncing back and forth between them endlessly, so irritably-

"Begone, wretched creature!"

My head whips around at the sound of my partner's voice. Nana's shouts now compete with those of the Nitpicker's. Yet she continues to follow after my steps, perfectly as if she were in my own boots – if you don't count the multitasking.

"What are you-"

"I'm fighting it off, dammit! Just keep going before we become this thing's dinner!"

This she yells back at me axe clutched in one hand; the other aggressively fires flurries of frost and ice in waves against the beast, attempting to chill it with every shot inflicted. Her mallet precariously hangs off her back where it's strapped around her body, similarly to my own, but as helpful as it probably would be for us to simply pummel it with the thing...our position makes for some  _slight_  impracticalities. It's fortunate that the next flatland is within reach, and it's what pushes me to continue climbing whilst Nana furiously battles the Nitpicker. We climb and climb and fight and fight, stepping and hopping and ascending.

Before I know it, the Nitpicker squawks again, this time with evident pain in its cry. I turn to see an icicle jabbed into its stomach, a knife crafted from Nana's own hand. She continues to scorch the wound, showering her flurries from earlier at its injury as it helplessly wails. Finally, the creature loses its distance from us, weakly floating further beneath us.

It's going to plan until we encounter the final stretch of the wall, smooth and flat. Quite literally so. Its climbable ledges and safe ice are non-existent: any ice we could dig our heels into would only resist the impact. We'd face the counter-attack of collapse as we slipped off away from the mountain and away from the hope we strived for. Then our ropes and strings would slip, too, and we'd lose our bond. That's why now we have to tie the knot with all we now have to make the final leap up and away.

"Climb up closer to me, Nana." I turn back to her, stuck underneath where I'm planted into the ice.

She stares back blankly. "Wh-"

"Just do it, I'll explain in a second!"

Nana wastes no time in bothering to question any further before she hops up next to me, pausing her attacks on the creature as she turns her gaze towards me. I open my mouth to tell her my plan – not without a little hesitation as to what she may think of me afterwards – looking her back in the eye. Though, if I know her as well as I'm sure I do, she won't be too opposed to my idea. I take a sharp breath in.

"I'm going to toss you up, but you have to jump too or you won't get up high enough."

"...what?"

Frankly, I don't have much of an idea of how it's going to work either.

I'm working based on the limited knowledge I have of advanced climbing techniques, the ones we don't learn until we reach adulthood; the ones that are the riskiest, the most dangerous. They call it a belay, from what I've caught of the older climbing students' conversations – tensing up the rope between you and your partner to prevent an otherwise deathly fall. What I have in mind is slightly different, and I'm not one to take risks so easily. But I'd rather make an attempt at survival than give in to a grisly demise at the hands of the pathetically-named Nitpicker. A deceiving name for such a monster.

But even Nana eyes me with suspicion, eyebrow raised in confusion. "Explain how that's going to work, Mr Smart."

I sigh. Unfortunately, our current position isn't going to make this any easier. With caution, I sidle towards my partner, edging along the ice awkwardly. As I reach a comfortable closeness to her body, with my feet rooted into the last remnants of safe ice, I start to move to put my arms around- wait, maybe I should…

"Uh, is it okay if I- you know, uh..."

There's a short silence between us until Nana snaps out of her little daze. A faint flush of red crosses her cheeks before she replies, "Oh, yeah, go ahead. It's fine." I can't stop myself from hesitating before I fully wrap my arms around her, a gesture I'm all too familiar with. It doesn't make it any less awkward. Or nerving, for that matter, as the cries of the Nitpicker start to crescendo again, approaching the pair of us.

I alter my grasp on her a little for ease, making sure she's comfortable. "I'm going to throw you as high as I can, okay?"

Her puzzled expression from earlier hasn't vanished. "What about you?"

"The rope will lift me up if I use enough force and strength," I reassure, tapping on our roped belts and hooks connecting us. "I should be able to land up there and pull you up."

She doesn't reply immediately. Her bemused face, I notice, has changed into one with more concern. Apprehension might be the right word for it. I probably sound like I'm stating the obvious, but deciphering Nana's feelings isn't too foreign to me at this point.

I lean us both into the vague indents of the wall, making more room for us to interact. Only then can I properly observe her: she returns my gaze, but her eyes are lower than usual, she seems smaller than usual. Perhaps words won't be my best remedy for this. Not like usual.

We make eye contact at last (after I stare at Nana long enough for her to notice). It's just a gaze we're exchanging, the kinds of looks we can trade as written letters without really writing. We're both silent.

I read her letter. Her eyes write of uncertainty and confusion, her brows detailing her apprehension. Or rather, apprehension is an understatement. Eyelids lowered, somewhat unmotivated, though their energy hasn't dissipated into the air. She's a little hopeful. But her posture and stance speak of inferiority and weakness, the feelings of them, even, rather than the being. Her lips are pursed, shut and tightened, as she ponders over how to reply.

In response, I smile. It's small, but I shorten the distance between us a little bit more, so I can get a closer look at her. I smile.

Nana waits for a little, though the tension in her body loosens. Then, she grins back lightly, nodding.

"On the count of three, okay?" I say.

She snickers a little, her face brightened up again. "Yes, Captain."

We both take deep breaths in. My grip around my partner tenses as I prepare to launch her up.

"One."

Nana shuts her eyes.

"Two."

I bend down.

"Three."

She soars up as if she actually were flying, majestic, astounding, phenomenal. In the air, she raises her arm, ice dagger in hand. It plummets into the hard ice, and I can almost hear the branches of cracks stemming from her strike, empowered by nothing but her stubborn will and brute force. Though I've never been one to underestimate Nana's strength, the scene unravelling before me is undoubtedly bewildering. I've never seen such beauty in all the climbing we've done together, not until a move like this one.

In the nick of time, I'm yanked up by Nana's movements – even higher than she had been! It's difficult not to yell as I helplessly look over the deathly drop just to the side of where Nana now stands. It's also hard to not appreciate the view I've now gained of almost the whole of our region, surrounding peaks the size of baby icicles in comparison to Icicle Mountain; the snow capping them like sprinkled stardust, and-

the depths of a cavern, opening their way unto me.


End file.
